The Elm in The West Wind

The tall elm writhes
and sighs
at your touch
a gasp
from spreading boughs
as your unseen fingers
find places never known
by the lesser elements
she scatters her leaves
which turn and trip
a terpsichorean flight
of wayward grace
upon your breath.

Naked, she shivers,
though not with fears,
save the fear
you will not grace her
with another kiss.


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