i stone of bone flint smoke
i acorn of mandrake
mistletoe and thorn
i mantic the needle pine --
can you ache of sickle moon?
then draw me down
into your loam
down into your song
i stone of bone flint smoke
i acorn of mandrake
mistletoe and thorn
i mantic the needle pine --
can you ache of sickle moon?
then draw me down
into your loam
down into your song
2 responses to “drawn”
I love when you do poems like this, embody the things of the wood. It feels like a spell.
Thank you. Sometimes it is easy to get lost in those places in my head.