In the temple of stone totems
Dwells the recumbent Pan,
Cloven feet hidden in the clover,
Hoof marks clean of traipse.
Lift the hem of Spring’s apron;
Strung-out bonnet strings
Squeeze blossoms through teeth.
Tie it under the chin, boys!
Corporal knows the feint
That slings beneath Sword’s sheath.
Enwreathed in flowers of her choosing,
Shoeless Heidi milkmaid
Tends to the grumbling old man,
As I watch from the empty hearth,
Verdant © Breanne Beals