like affectionate rays of sun, through dense woodland crowns.
Lighting up a sacred space in the undergrowth and
glinting in the swirling, gurgling waters of the nearby brook.
A rustling in the autumn leaves draws my attention.
“Hello, Lickle Sleepy Eyes”, she whispers, both strange yet so familiar.
And I catch a snatch of a voice I haven’t heard for many moons,
cooing softly: “We, too, love to be recognized and loved.”
And that subtle scent in the air – beyond the wondrous smell
of wild garlic – the moist earth after revivifying rain.
What’s that aptly-delightful word on the tip of my tongue?
Ah yes! “Petrichor” comes the reminder from beyond Beyond.
I feel the warm and tender touch of breeze on my arm,
And pause briefly on my rambling along the scrunchy gravel path,
as a wonderful shimmer runs races up and down my spine
and lifts the vestigial hairs on my arms and balding scalp.
I sense a gentle kiss on my ready-parted lips
and break into a spontaneous, beaming, – even primal – grin.
Such an intimate and moving moment cannot go un-noticed
as it stirs old yearning buried thrice-deep within my heart.
Then my billowing white clouds roll across the hypnagogic sky
and the sunlight abruptly leaves the enchanted clearing.
“Alas!” In a moment, my joyful reverie is broken –
though an unvoiced “See you tonight!” seems to linger in the air.
“Yes, yes!” I cry aloud in heated, hasty reply,
hoping my words do not come too late. Not caring
that some passer-by might take me for a blessèd lunatic.
A benighted, and breathless, would-be escapee, no less!
“Thank you!” I exclaim, turning and jiggling on the spot.
“Oh, yes: a thousand-and-one times ‘Yes!’”
“A lovers’ tryst! At dead of night, the witching hour ...”
“... and every night thereafter, until blissful reunion!”
~ ET. Yorkshire, England, © Thursday 27 August 2020.
Image: Sir Hubert von Herkomer - Woodland scene with rabbits - Google Art Project.
Artist: Hubert von Herkomer (1849–1914).
Image source: Wikimedia Commons.
Image licence: Public domain.
