Forestier

The church is my forest
The forest my church
Lay under a spell
And there she will perch
sanctioned to surrender
A potion of dew
A notion of sap as we wrap
On into

She is Never excessive
Expressively so
Frugal her abstinence
Goes with the flow
Festooned in such wonderment
Unfallen soul
Whose arms are the boughs
And whose branches control

Bloodless and blameless
Faultless to a tee
Treelike and beautiful
Such purity
Her ardour of sanctity
Honours us all
Incorrupt and immaculate
However tall

Her candour was obvious
Right from the start
Her reception of rapture
Within her heart
A great acclamation
The wind in her leaves
And a seal of approval
In what she believes

Hug her and feel her
And be her within her
Hold her in high esteem
Wind dance and share
Sing with the birds
And honour her fragrance
She be the gOddess
Of whom I’m aware