Maiden's Morn

Maiden’s Morn

Indian princess
with her long wet hair,
there
by the quiet pool
beneath a small waterfall;
playing her wooden flute,
in chorus
with the heady bird chatter
in the glen;
greeting the morning white
shafts of sunlight stabbing
through the thick
canopy of conifers.

She is in love,
and her mouth
on the reed
reflects her joy,
like her visage
in the deep clear water
beside her.

The music beckons,
and she is joined
by a young doe
with her spring fawn,
still tiny and spotted;
watching her,
listening
unafraid
as they stoop to drink
the cold beauty.

Robins and jays
flit about in tempestuous birdtag,
bouncing on low branches,
while high above
a black pair of crow
caw their throaty salutations
to the new day.

Glenn Buttkus April 2008