The Earth is your muse.

You robe your human muse

in imagined fabrics,

designed from the patterns

of lichens and mosses on Her stones.

Her moths display themselves

beside your door.

Their wings bear code in bright colours,

or delicately drawn ciphers in black and white.

Her moths carry

messages of your earthbound muse.

Pots made from Her clay,

in Her ochre, sienna, bistre,

hold the branches of apple blossoms

or the pale stalks of heavy-headed grasses

you give to your muse.

You cannot consummate your love

of the Earthmuse.

Instead, you give Her power to a woman you may touch,

a woman to whom you may give

your heart and your body.

A woman whose eyes

draw you down into the cave

or tease you to follow her flights.

Compel you to climb mountains

or stumble through dense undergrowth.

Charm you to lie by the sea on warm red sandstone

or at the cedar’s foot on moist cool green moss.

All you associate with the woman

is of the Earth, your muse.

You, simple, have given Her human form.

The first of the series, Island Poems. The series will continue soon.