THE HAUNTED GROVE

I saw us in a strange grove

Where disparate groups of trees

Congregated with delicate ferns and climbing vines.

And the trees spread their lithe branches

For a cascade of green moss and russet lichen

-- a display of verdant hue --


Beautiful, but surely . . .

Too ostentatious a display for just us two.

The budding and blooming and blossoming

An overabundance of reproduction

Sex organs hidden in each flowering plant,

Attracting pollinators with color and scent.

An excess of fruit, sure to ripen, fall, decay.

I saw us lounging there.


Then fall came.

Nature clashed about us like a wild warrior.

Rain pelted, winds howled and convulsed,

Blasting first this way, then that,

Skirmishing amid branches and dead leaves.

When the intolerable roar of thunder

Threatened to confuse our senses, drive us mad,

We climbed beneath the hollow of an ancient oak,

Fell to sleeping, tangled in each others limbs for warmth,

Like animals . . . like lovers.


I saw us haunting a strange wood,

Emerging from the oak, through a drift of snow.

Everything was changed, sparkling iridescence

Claimed our lovely trees.

We danced in a barren world of crystal and white.


I saw us white ghosts with rose colored cheeks.

And we were kissing

Beneath the parasitic mistletoe.