Spring I

Silver birches swaying blithely
winding coyly in the windy breeze;
broad-brimmed beeches blowing softly:
faithful, friendly forest-maidens.
Lilting laughter lightly carries,
while treemaids splash in spraying brook;
washing their hair in waterfalls sweet,
bathing in sunlight’s soft-clean warmth.
Master Sun is more than sanguine
shining through leaves and shoots so greenly,
making playful prancing shadows
sprinkling Greenwood in springtime light.
In the clearing, Oaking’s court is joyful
minstrel fauns sing morning hymns, while
river maids dance with ravishing movements
and larchmen lounge, leaves a-whispering
of quieter joys coursing, tingling
right through their veins, thanking the Maker
for the joy of Spring, splend’rous awakening
new life, new love – living, loving.

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Filed under Medieval, Spring

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