Playful Spirit



Playful spirit behind an oak

laughed and flirted but never spoke.

Eyes of onyx, raven hair,

I marveled at her standing there.


Brilliant sunshine — could barely see.

Had my eyes played tricks on me?

I stood in reverence and awe

not sure of what I thought I saw.


Fluttering soft, the poplar leaves

perhaps, had caused me to believe

I’d seen someone who wasn’t there —

eyes of onyx, raven hair.


The nimble spirit deftly danced

from tree to tree and lightly pranced.

I didn’t know quite what to do

about this vision in my view.


I had no knowledge of such things.

What does one do when nature brings

such beauty, grace and winsome mold

who, I could see but could not hold?


I could have watched her all day long

her movements sang just like a song.

She beckoned me with backward glance

down flowered pathway of romance.


I had no choice, I was entranced;

induced to follow where she danced.

The woods had changed, were foreign now,

colors brighter, surreal somehow.


I saw some spirits on the way.

They went about their normal day.

They took no notice of my form

contrary to their spirit norm.


They were at home among the trees;

conversely, I felt ill at ease.

Abandoned, then just like a snare —

eyes of onyx, raven hair.


She drew me close and hugged me tight;

we kissed, caressed throughout the night.

Not a wisp of evanescence,

but a real woman’s presence.


Wood smoke, sweet-grass, musk and cedar —

I took her hand, she let me lead her.

Beneath the boughs we made our bed

while stars shone brightly overhead.


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