A gentle rustling breeze
Breathing in my ear,
Singing an aroma,
A sensuousness I can hear.
The tenderest of lovers
Caressing with their leaves;
The rites of Spring’s flirtations
Gently tugging at my sleeve.
Long and stretched to greet them,
My body as a loom,
Trees weave their mysteries round me
In nature’s undulating womb.
Barbara Elizabeth Atkinson
