Faun’s Head
In foliage, green jewel-case stained gold,
within the shelter, transient and jetting
flowers full with the dormant kiss,
alive and splintering the exquisite embroidery
a startled faun lifts his eyes
and gnaws red blossoms with his white teeth.
Dark, veinous as an aged wine,
his lips explode with laughter beneath the branches.
And when he had fled, squirrel-wise,
his laughter hung, dazzling each leaf,
and there one saw, frightened by a bullfinch,
the golden kiss of the woods, waiting.