In this forest
The birds have gone mute
But Driads rustle impatiently in tree-skins
Waiting for me to pass
Moss as soft as velvet
A quiet pond
The water smooth as plate glass
I shatter it with my hand
The air flutters
Torn and tattered butterfly wings
Dancing in little whorls
Psyche's angels
She lies among the wildflowers
Powder pale
Twined in forget-me-nots
Hair like dandelion silk
Limbs delicate fronds
Eyes like spring greens
Bursting forth from the earth
1987
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