MUSED Literary Magazine.
Poetry

The Lady of the Wood

Bartholomew Barker

She lives in the cool green
of sun glimpsed through leaves.
Her bare feet crunch
last year´s shade into soil,
nourishing the roots entwined below.

Dryads guard her while she sleeps,
her dreams winking like fireflies.
Ravens envy her tresses as they fly.
Ducks follow her walks around the pond.
The wren greets her with a courtly bow.

I grew up in these woods,
a reckless innocent who left
for concrete and metal boxes
and promises of gold handcuffs
and neon to the horizon.

Only now do I remember
the sharing of breath
and safety of touch.
I am under her protection
and will not betray the trust.