Ghost maidens dreaming in the meadow
A wisp of mist and soulless shadow
That whispering gaze
Melting in the mornings’ haze
Dressed in rags of wisp and curl
Brief beauty, loves loss unfurled
Blushed pink did they fleshly bloom
One summers' fickle afternoon
Their fleeting flowering life to die
Before drifting silent to the sky
That costly sinful Sunday singing dance
When all was lost to times' brief chance
My poem was inspired by Rosebay Willowherb and references the old Christian belief that it was a sin to dance on a Sunday which was sometimes used as a way to describe stone circles. The stones being dancers turned to stone after sinning.
The plant of course has medicinal and spiritual properties.
The idea of transformation is one I find fascinating, both in terms of plants life cycles and our own relationship to nature as well as the different beliefs we encounter over time.