hush green creeping wind murmurs
so still but for shaking leaves
under the breeze some smell of cold.
but wait ears up green wind brush-
a little runner in the ferns
did you see him rustle by so fleeting?
come close now though and quiet
and listen to the wood,
come let me run my rough flat tongue
over your wee white spots my young.
c. 1998
© RMT 2009
1 comment:
so lovely to read this again! will check out the rest when I have a mo! :) x
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