I awoke to the silent buzz of the forest,
windows open, the ancient chill caressed my bare skin.
everywhere my gaze touched green
undulating mounds and tufts of ground mixed with jutting dark earth.
trees in various migration toward fall, then snow.
vines begging for the sky.
moss drunk with a night now gone
images of green eyes seeing me - so rare.
Lips touched by Celtic things,
bruised by clouds;
lusty yet tender.
i desire more
What are you,
really?
