Dews of the late afternoon
Descend upon pine and spruce.
Rising out of the north,
Leisurely mists emblanket the woods,
Their white robes trailing
Among treetops and tree boughs.
The verdant green
Outlined by a sky
Too pale and wan,
Saturated with austerity.
But I love it
For all its asceticism.
I cannot explain it
Anymore than I can explain you.

Embarking upon another stroll
Among the shrubs below the canopy
I feel your spirit lurking here
Perhaps among the bushes and moss
Or keeping company
With the wren and the cardinal?
Your cold hands percolate
My tender skin, then
Vanish,
As ephemeral as the New England weather
Shivers reverberate
Through my fragile frame
Maybe one day I will find you ...

Copyright ©2001-2003, Allegra H., all rights reserved. Please contact me via e-mail if you wish to reproduce this material.