Dreams of Trees

The night coats the rim of the moon with its cloak.
The night pours its lush scent into the secret indentations of the trees,
Into the carnal world of darkened bark.

The night lives in the scent of its admirers,
Those admirers who pour into its blackness,
Who come covered in oils so rich in fragrance
that they ooze the carnality of the trees, of the night, of the moon.

Oh radiant moon, find me this night and cover me in the softness of your down,
That I may scent you in my dreams and sight you in my eyes.

Copyright 2010


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