The Gatherer

I felt I just had to share this rather special poem more widely. Please enjoy , appreciate and feel the wonder due.

fourwindowspress

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

He is not just a gatherer
of ripened berries and roots,
plants of every kind,
but he is a gatherer of days
and lights and secret places
where treasures abound.

He’s not just a gatherer
of summer strawberries,
blueberries, and blackcaps,
the northern red cranberries,
but a gatherer of open spaces,
a quiet still hill,
and a meeting at last
of his wild woman.

She is there in the blanket
of golden chanterelles
among the deep pockets
of the forest
where he finally ravishes her
with kisses to her mouth
and blowing hair.

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About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on September 7, 2019, in Poem - Not Written By Me Though, Reposted from elsewhere. Bookmark the permalink. 6 Comments.

  1. I love this. So much appreciation for the eclipse of their meeting. Excitement. Bliss. Euphoria. Gratitude. Wonder. Absolute Connection and Purity of Spirit. So much to find in this wonderful moment. Heavens Be Praised for the Ability to Be So Happy!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I always love Ethel’s poetry – another blog I must catch up with! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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