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When he was five
the lady of the trees welcomed him
with green whisperings,
sunlight speaking in the hairs along his arms;

she slid her silver tongue
along the edges of his eyes
until he drifted into mosses under trees,
and touched the swollen
red and purple tips of grasses
where his fingers grew like leaves,

and his laughter lay
like littered shadows in the glade;
while her whisper sang among the rocks
and rippled just below the skin of streams.

He slipped into the waters,
diving for her words:
they swam like fishes
swirling away.

Sun circled from the canopy,
loved the boy,
leaned against his skin.

He was green along the forest heart,
and hours drifted like the motes of dust:
swift in sunshaft. He followed her
along the edges of the years
until he was a man.

When he returned,
brown and singing, warm,
he carried in his arms
our sunloved world.
set within the jeweled sky.

      — Sharon Kourous

Hear Sharon Kourous read 'Mi Amante, Mi Tierra'