The Green Maidens
The Green Maidens
A.
Awakened by sudden light
glow of three magnificent
presentations of female
so I look away.
Between local pond and barn
the pushing dance of a birth
below hanging birds of prey
reason for the three.
Golden hair yellow petals
the three have seen in silence
the answer is trying twice
so you get it right.
They wear green leave shirts and skirts
green maidens I see in dreams
faces intricate as leaf
they turn eyes aside.
A run to open a door
present when woman shivers
arrow knocked drawn from quiver
to keep a distance.
The three chatter full of air
they sing bars of same new song
across the globe of the world
they sing of their pain.
B.
Knowing not to stare walk by
immediately regret
opening my eyes to see
my heart to these three.
To the chicken coop for eggs
return to vast library
to invite the feminine
to hearty breakfast.
Swirl of intake and output
words relentless clarity
on each of the women’s hearts
the three perfect at work.
Autumn in San Fransisco
sifts some blue through white cloud bay
a soft invisible rain
names one woman owns.
A doe dying in the rain
these three deer step their boundaries
their jumping and the playing
with their heads lowered.
Stop for lunch near wild fig tree
take off their cloths feel their skin
lay down near the tree roll around
near heavy ripe fig.
C.
One angered by my writing
love poems are vanity
not the smell of sweet Birch blooms
she preferred silence.
Three women bow on gravel
to share what the years have taught
the moments of pleasant task
proper use of tools.
There are men singing in their dreams
they sit on red sand with dogs
hold the dogs off with their feet
song of private land.
Caterpillars on Oak limbs
rattles of antlers on buck
fight in circle of moonlight
to unveil the third.
They sit and they drink their wine
and talk about all their thoughts
on Calochortus flowers
the land during spring.
Examine aged bodies
to love all their scars deeply
place their gifts at the alter
blessings of their love.
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Lovely maidens in dreams. Very enchanting and lovely verse, Jamie.
This was beautiful.
“They sit and they drink their wine
and talk about all their thoughts
on Calochortus flowers
the land during spring.”
WShat a brilliant metaphor. 🙂
Thank you Phyllis and Elizabeth for reading and leaving such heartfelt comments. I appreciate you both. Jamie