Portrait of a Lady in Winter: The Green Man’s Tale
And the winter-ladies’ graces
holding hands with certain silence
And mad soliloquies of sudden thunder break and roll, break and roll
Inevitability fades as she listens very closely
To this,
His spun-sugar fantasy
And if she only listens closely he will tell her everything.
Her sweet face smiles and she believes it all
And in its golden castle, her pocket-watch tick-tocks disdainfully
And waiting, ever-waiting as he tells his crazy tale
Again for the audience that is trapped inside his head.
The Green Man listens for the sound of music in an oak-leaf,
New-fallen to the ground,
And singing
Suddenly in the eldritch green witch-light of the coming storm,
He begins to laugh and laugh.
Author's Note: This poem was inspired by The Green Man, who visited me one lonely winter morning and woke me up to spring. For my companion post to this piece, please see my guest blog post, "The Green Man: Cherishing the Wild Seed," soon to come on The Pagan Arts.
