You grow within my soul
a great tree with broad low limbs for climbing
wide spreading branches for shade
shelter from all storm.
Within a fork of the tree you curl
playing your autoharp
like a dreaming elf
you charm me.
Within music you lead me
through the landscape of your soul
across the deserts your father rode with the Mongols
down the Amazon where you swam with the Yamomano
dancing along the cliffs of Greece and Spain
lunching in the bazaar at Marrakesh
drifting to the Highlands
across the great green moors
to the shade of a tree that grows like I dream of dancing
where we lie down.