lady of the blue foothills

lady of the blue  m on

one summer’s eve she came to call
a moonlit vision peering in
rousing me from slumber’s cusp
amidst the wooded hollow’s din
with eyes of green, face white as snow
raven curls from her hooded cloak, cascading,
then whispered she, my name
it would rude of me i thought
to look away, to hide my head
instead i rubbed my eyes in case
it was a dream…”i’m not” she said
“what then, are you, or rather who?”
i might as well engage this sprite
it’s odd i don’t feel any fright
just curious why she happened by
before i could ask her she replied,
“i am the mounded loam beneath
your feet, my voice is sometimes
light, a breeze, or birdsong sweet
and other times it roars,
a tempest swift to rage,
my eyes from green turn steel gray
i smell of honeysuckles, roses too,
lilacs, lavender, and bells of blue
my thoughts are many as the stars
and every wish you’ve ever wished
i keep close, guarded in my heart.”
then just like that, the moon behind
clouds drifted, she was gone
leaving me to wonder if what i saw
was real or just my mind slipping
‘tween lucidity and dreaming, yet
i felt her cradle me, calmed by her breath,
or was it mine, finally i slept


Na/GloPoWriMo 2022 -Day 25 Pronpt: based on the Aisling, a poetic form that developed in Ireland. An aisling recounts a dream or vision featuring a woman who represents the land or country on/in which the poet lives, and who speaks to the poet about it. Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that recounts a dream or vision, and in which a woman appears who represents or reflects the area in which you live.

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