Treesway in the coming storm
my heart aches with longing
words lodge in my throat
in the secret places of my
soul.
It is a fey dance, this blue fire
there are messages in the earth
in the leaves that tremble in the stormwind
in the sway of my
hips.
Hair swinging low
I press my hands against my heart
for it will surely
beat right out of my
chest.
