Beltane

Once it warms enough the scent reemerges

Growth

Original fecundity

Is that what they are allergic to, I wonder

Worried into natural aversion of springtime

That might trigger a primal urge

Let alone a Druidical memory of ritual sex

Celebrating rutting in fields and pastures

That’s enough to constrict certain blood vessels

For now

But the brown hue of loamy soil

Sticks to your back

Tonight

 

 

David Trudel      © 2013

 

 

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