Dryadic Abjuration

The chill of the morning air leaves
mists still clinging to blades of grass
wet with the dew of nights passing.

She melts into nature,
the mist closing around
her ankles, a slow
deliberate take over
of the senses,
woman and nature
combine and
dreams are
foretold.

She whispers softly
to the rustling branches
and a veil of petals fall,
cloaking her in
the gentle downfall
of dogwood blossoms.

Birds perch on her
delicate fingers.

She sings long forgotten
melodies, in languages
long since deceased,
of the golden age
of wonderment
and of elegance.

Foxes curl around her
statuesque legs.

In her hands she holds
the key to the wonder forgotten,
the answer to life untold,
she is everything and nothing.

The rain lightly falls
and dusk creeps into the glade,
moonlight oozes through
oily black clouds,
as the woman slowly changes
into a form quite like
the trees that surround her.

© Justin Frieberg, All rights reserved