Spirit of the Woods
Model: Greta Volkova
Poet: Carter Davis
Through valleys low and mountains high I trek
Lost in shades of serene beauty
And rugged enduring lands.
Pausing to rest I cast my meager belongings
On a meadow high in the mountains,
As the sun fades over the valley setting
The western sky ablaze trees delineated in the waning light.
Not a sound nor breeze disturbs the twilight as
Wisps of smoke sauntering in the paleness converge
High above the grassy plain; bewildered
By the vision of beauty, a mythical creature
A mirage with Flowers surrounding golden hair
Cascading against ashen skin. A Gown of white
Shimmies to a mystical rhythm as a
Train of white mist dances behind, and eyes intense
Filled with mirth gaze upon me.
Mesmerized by the captivating voice singing
A melody of life my eyes grow heavy in slumber.
In the morning light the vision can only be a wish
Festered by the stories of yore touting
The fabled nymph of the forest.
Yet, the flower of intense beauty and fragrance
Unequaled in the world lying across my legs
Dispels the vexing question!
Blessed art I, for I gazed upon the legendary
Beautiful Spirit of the Woods.
©Carter Davis
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