Crippling luminosity make its aurora along the <br />Long trunk of a lustrous snake as <br />It goes up a mountain for a drink: <br />How long will she be its cradle, <br />As it maneuvers underneath the bowers and <br />The elk, <br />The white trees in an albino’s sorority <br />Withered up from where <br />The fires scarred her cheek: <br />She will let him climb, legless, getting to <br />The monuments of her occultism’s gardens <br />Only to send the beautiful <br />Snows down- and keep him for <br />A while beneath her gaze, <br />While the pilots hover above, leaping <br />Above her candle flame and back to their <br />Little wives; <br />But even in their beds, they remember that moment <br />Looking down at her elevated gardens <br />Where such much life mingles in the sub consciousness <br />Of the beautiful forest by which she clothes herself.<br /><br />Robert Rorabeck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-beautiful-forest/
