Forgotten Ground Regained
White
Dream, she says,drawing her drifts about her,when you lie broken on the roador wherever you get broken,my cold in your breaks,dream of my white.
Or in another mood,come unbroken into my inward,sun burning through,enter my forest of frost feathers.
Orange for berries.Red, black, ochre and straw-coloured hairs,black limbs, black trunks,her beech leaves russet,evergreens burdened;and what she does with her fingers.
Know what she means,then come.
Copyright © George Johnson, 1990. Originally published in Endeared by Dark. Reprinted by permission of the author.