IN MOSS AND SWAMP
Beyond the gates of reason lies
a land of mediaeval dreams
where few men travel any route
beyond the route that’s common seen.
A land of purple shadowed paths
where vague assenting breezes blow
and spells are wrapped in indigo
within the lee of murmuring trees.
And deep within the leaf green light
the faeries dance among the glades
as maids in wattle woven bowers
comb out their flowing flaxen hair.
As dreams depart the fictive path
where nettles nip at legs and thighs
they fade in violet dark within
a pitcher plant in mossy swamp.