Public Republic

Therése Halscheid

Photo: gromgull

I have just finished sweeping
a place in the glade where
a bed is now made of
star moss and blossoms.
I have ordered a moon
to come softly, its white
through the trees,
birds for the sky, a waterfall
lovely to listen to.

Come,

step out of the dream
of your house
onto the path of warm fog
in the scented opening
of the forest.
Follow the birds I have sent
and the light between leaves
where the pale of the moon
angles down through
the branches.

Let yourself be led
by only these things.
Nothing you leave will be missed.

Take no clothes,
you will not need them.