Goddess

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

The hem of her dress
brushes against the trees
and the open meadows,
open spaces that bank
against the forest,
appearing familiar,
as if they were
from some other lifetime:

Brushing that brings
into focus
the sharpness
of the fox’s eyes
and the grass snake
that climbed
up into the cedar tree
to escape the flooded ground.

She is eye-level to us,
holding her head high,
looking into us
and we into her.

3 Comments

Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry

3 responses to “Goddess

  1. This is beautifully mysterious, Ethel.

  2. What John said – beautifully mysterious. I love the brushing hem of her dress and feel Gaia nearby in this mystical poem. Elegant writing as always, Ethel. 💕

  3. One spirit, many vehicles.

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