Elysian, Altered

Taken by the trees, she was

A scion of the underbrush,

And whirring blurs

Of sundrenched wings

Sank toward the sky

So lazily,

In syncopated entropy.

And tangled hair

Snagged golden burrs

Sweetly scented in the warmth,

And they did cling to mountain child

To be plucked off with absent smile

And left among the redwood towers,

Ivy vines and wild flowers.

For flight she took

Past tree and briar

Through sun-baked field

And veiled ravine,

Till she reached shore,

Those ragged miles

Carved by waves tempestuous,

With rocky cove and bleached tide pool,

And sand fell into undertow,

Left only clouds to pass the time;

And surf stripped bare

Her hidden feet

That strove to grasp the ceding ground.

Taken with the waves she was,

And lazy floated toward the sky

To meet the lonely albatross

And join him in his eddied flight;

A scion of the heart to be,

How could she chase green reverie,

To dance along, on sunlit feet,

The brushwood kind,

The height of trees.