Guardian Of The Forest Poem by Richard Blanch

Moon in a blithe night sky
Glows coolly at herself out of water
Shimmers in a rock pool in a grove.
Lunar stillness holds the leaves
And another being: mild
Between moon and moon shine silver horns
Over a thicket of hair -
Indigo, copper, spiky, gold -
And two drinking eyes.
Is it a stag of the forest?
But the eyes are violet, are green
Above a human nose
Above parted cherry lips,
Sheltering shadows pearled by the light,
Thighs furred and sinewy,
Buttocks and tender feet pale on the grassy rise.
One hand rests by the pool
Where crystal glitters.
The Guardian of the Wood
Is scrying. Two more moons
Play in his downcast eyes:
Moon binds sky, basin and serene head.
Dark noises pile silence
Into a green-blue veil
Waiting with Him for what the water will show.
A little breath scythes,
Shivers the crescent in the pool.
Soft lips almost curl.
Sweet susurration of
Milky leaves: night’s voice.
In the crook of his arm leans
A staff of birch, hung with bright bands,
Strung with flights of foliage.
Fingers play lightly
On its cool curves.
Another breeze flutters the tendrils
Around his gentle neck.
Spirals and eyes, carved on the rock, flare.
Kit’s Time. Bewitchment. He smiles,
Voluptuous, imperturbable. Quiet might.

Vision comes
Owl hoots.
Fox barks.
Serious delight
Settles as a mist.

Guardian-
Guard us.

January 2004.