he contained a rough
earthy magic
that made dogs follow him
as if he carried T-bone steaks
in his pocket
made the trees stand up a little straighter
showing off their finery as he walked by
caused village women to throw open
their shutters
undo top buttons absently
let down their hair with a sigh
as he strode past their windows

he only had eyes
for her
the woman who lived
on the outskirts of town
tidy cottage where dried herbs hung
from the ceiling
pitchers of fresh lavender
on every table
she radiated moon magic
in the luminescence of her skin
he could hear the tides
when his ear lay close to hers
sparks that erupted
when they touched
made the fire roar in the heath
lanterns flicker
while the wolves howled their music
to the starry night

© 2017 & © 2019 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved