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May 2015
I hear its song in the wind.
Its mournful rhythm swaying through the leaves.
It's calling me to see its glory, its splendour.
Its calling me to sleep, a leafy lullaby.
Its rustle reminds me of a long hooped dress,
rustling across the ground. Running. Laughing. Hiding. Lost.
I am the wearer of the dress.
Silken leaves shimmy to a bride's first dance.
I am Meinir that runaway bride, lost inside the tree.
My bones will not be found inside the lightning  shattered tree, my soul is in the voice of the Talking Tree.
Copyright © JLB
06/05/2015
15:10 BST

http://www.nantgwrtheyrn.org/about-nant/history/folktales/rhysameinir
Camellia-Japonica
Written by
Camellia-Japonica  F/Wales
(F/Wales)   
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