Lady Of Dead Leaves
Beneath a dead leaf my love lies hidden
with a rose pearl and a starling's feather
where the dark forest unties Her ribbons
where night rides as black as robber's leather
with a bagful of moon's most starving hours
in a forest where leaves are falling forever,
whose balefires paint meteoric showers,
whose pale sprites teach old lovers to dance
and sew up their wounds with threads of flowers.
For grape never saw the wine She decants,
a vintage that ripens with dissolution
aged in a song, sealed with ash and chance.
Under the starlight's silver infusion
asleep as a bee in the fading thunder,
which is volition and which illusion
when all that's left of life is to wonder
or lift the leaf that love is under.
posted for earthweal
where I am pleased to host this week's challenge,
Images: Fairy Dance, © Arthur Rackham Public Domain
Spring Beauty © Andrew Wyeth Fair Use