You transported me to the top of the mountain,
smoothed, stroked my feathers,
mended my wing,
fed me fish,
held grapes to my lips.

You led me deep into paths of pleasure,
near falling waters,
onto vaulted tree tops,
through dark berry bushes,
always touching, tasting.

You took me to the highest peak of the mountain,
lay open your fingers, nodded;
I spread my wings, soared into the clouds,
breezes lifted me higher, faster;
I looked back, you were gone,
I wanted to tell you I loved you.

 © Gilda Kreuter

Published Atlantic Highlands Herald
10 February 2005

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