Your boughs of plenty .. .

Your boughs of plenty
  laden down
your arms of joy
  greedy green of goblin’s gold

your eyes hidden
    blinkered, sightless
        neath your eye-line shadow
            golden eyes with lashes
                cold scars on your knotty spine

burrs on your umber skin
  you are incapable of sin
      your branches cannot lie
          ’til that morbid day you laydown
              I long since departed

under your nature’s robes
  visits as a minor bird 
your fine clothes green n’ gold
  your off-the-shoulder gown

your locks untrained, lascivious
  your shape bent tantalising
the way you stand just out of reach
  oft painter’s-brush horizon

Marrietta, corn is waving in our field
  scenery afore tomorrow’s growing
      your flowing dress of aqua – maize
        supports the motion of our ways
            trees always do outlive our days

                         ©edenbraytoday11.05.2022