The Green Dress by F E Clark

I waited so long for spring to come,
no hope through winter -
a longing for salad.
Suddenly summer’s here and I’m turned to stone,
still hibernating in winter mode.

Bracken, trees and grass,
my house lost in the weeds -
green cottage dressed.
Earth’s rhythm continuing,
whilst I am a statue.

Bare and cold and lichen clad,
alone I wait beneath a verdant curtain -
the season’s turn.
Bathed in lushness – light shines,
through the cracks, finding me.

F. E. Clark lives in Scotland. She writes and paints, taking inspiration from the magical landscape around her. A Pushcart, and Best of the Net nominee, her words can be found in various places online and in print.  Website:  | Twitter: @feclarkart

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