magic meadow

I

in a bowl of light

at the center of magic meadow

mountain laurel and i

exchange vows

alive in the Awesome Stillness

rushing water, birdsong and insect hum

are the enchanted voices of Spirit in the dawn

on sunday morning, too early for traffic

magic pathways are diamond-strewn

as infant green grasses raise beads of dew

glinting chips of shattered sunlight

in the early morning air

i think i must have been a pre-raphaelite

in another life

Nature stabs me to the heart

i cannot be numb

a dangerous thing

this Beauty

II

i share my poems

in the empty amphitheater

blossoming trees the only witnesses

and they applaud with silken susurration

of the breeze within the boughs

the stream laughs and sighs

in all the right places

and the songbirds tease me shrilly

with their competing liquid verses

poetry slam in the meadow

Beltane morning 5.1.11

© 2011 pamela twining