I lift a wicker basket down from heaven
to place it in the centre of a woodland clearing.
Twelve hazels form a circle.
Twelve wolf masks float the air.
I fasten each mask to each tree with meticulous care.
When we face the darkness like a giant shield and realize
we have no hands to join, I sever my own,
offer them up. My blood seeps into the earth.
The forgotten fairy godmother appears as if by magic.
She does not think me cursed and blesses my work.
This is all I need to know to dance ecstatic.
The trees are clapping with my hands!
Bullfinch builds herself a nest.
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Red Beauty Sleeping with Trees © 2013 Wendy Heath: used with permission.
Copyright of this poem remains with the poet: please do not download or republish without permission.