The wood nymph
Through the breeze driven fluttering foliage
sunlight licks lasciviously upon her skin.
Through the diaphanous dress that surrounds her
it warms her as her frenzied frolic begins.
In her rarefied rapture she prances,
ending sublime stasis from the night before
when suitor satyrs did woo her,
a legend legacy from days of yore.
Now alone in her wandering woodland
she dances dangerously close to free,
to the magical music of birdsong,
lithe limbs twisting beneath her trees.
She tosses tousled hair to the morning,
with artistic abandon she flies,
among the sun speckled leaves of her true loves
who brush branches to signal their sighs.
Copyright © Kevin Marschall | Year Posted 2025
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