fragment 61
by kvennarad
You curl round me like a fern,
like a fern round my heart, close
and green, tight round my old heart…
the fern, the green hand-amongst-hands of the mountainside above, and of the chuckling, secretive dens below the sheep-wanders; how tight you clutch in the wait of winter, the weight of winter beneath the snow, how you curl around my slowing heart…
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churl green fern.
churl on.
lovely
I love this one. I grew up around ferns and I loved how they uncurled as summer progressed.
beautiful language all but this line really struck:
“…of the chuckling, secretive dens below the sheep-wanders;”