Wild
She comes �She nears,
Through sighing trees,
In troubled skies of evening's light.
The restless breeze
Sends rustling leaves
To praise in soft unkempt disquiet.
One gentle drop upon my cheek �/EM>
Her chastest kiss so softly felt.
A whispered wind �Her quiet caress,
Which soothing murmurs as I melt.
Then from the skies
The witch winds rise!
To steal my breath with sudden spite.
In dizzy spins �/EM>
Thrice widdershins!
Her laughter rings in dark delight.
Whilst all around
Her thunders sound,
As lightning tears the jagged dusk.
‘Tween earth and sky �/EM>
Struck humbled by,
The violence of her whimsied lusts.
In the building storm and growing dark,
The mighty trees sweep, sway and bow,
To Her windswept tresses �dancing now!
So dark and wild and free�/EM>
(Ó Gordon A. MacIntyre, February 1995)
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