Gently The Woodsorrel And The Dove Poem by Sally Evans

Gently the woodsorrel and the dove
evoked wide glades of memory
to share my quest across the sea,
a world-floor I could float above,
a world-bush filled with scent so fine
birds lost their minds to music, leaves
opened to flat plates in the breeze
on which lay food, and coins, and wine.

And from my carpet of wood sorrel
I importuned the gods above
to tell me if these gifts were mine,
mine to give or mine to take,
mine to pluck for true love's sake,
safe in the glade where memory shone
where the dove's mate and the flowers had gone,
and where no prize was worth the quarrel.

I ate and drank. My joy was brief.
The coins were folded in the leaf.
I wept, nor slept until I heard,
as from a wood, a dove's quiet word,
from herbs, their soothing lullabies.
'Nothing is worth a bean or shred
compared with what your true love said.'
The dove and sorrel closed my eyes.

2010
[first line from Elizabeth Smart]