fae--
your face
and hands
on me;
hot breath,
under the Rowan
tree are
bundled
cream and
butter. they say
turn aside from
the will-o-the-wisp
and wear cold
iron on your
wrists, carry a
crumb of bread
in the pocket—
but I
swallow
the light
that leads me
home and fall
into you in mists
of dripping grasses
and you tangle
my hair, raking
teeth through elf-
locks and messing
my all with your
tempest winds.
i bury my face
in your earth, drink
the cup of familiar--
warm, musty...
home. I am home.
where you are, I
am home.
11 comments:
Oh, to be home like that. Amen.
utterly gorgeous.
but I
swallow
the light
your words are light.
i swallow them tonight. (thank you so much for linking, friend)
Asking for and receiving blessings and protection in ones garden or home of the soul to have the protection of the fae and the Rowan that provides protection from the evils of this world that is all too much with us. Lovely poem woven from the mythological world.
Exquisite poem, and stunning breath-taking photo,
Joanny
I held my breath.
I know this love, know it like this, but have not spoken of it, did not know HOW. You harness the wind and take us on it for a ride.
stunning.
stunning , Laura.
I want to read it again, and again.
I know where that photo was taken! :)
It is poems like these that make me wish I had talent. Thanks for sharing yours!
your words carry me to another place ...
This is really marvelous. I love the internal rhyme of "me" and "Rowan tree."
Looks like you found your poetry in Texas. :)
this harks back to another time. remembering what you forgot....
This takes my breath away. It is gorgeous. Stunningly gorgeous.
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