Monday, 22 June 2015

Naiad to Dryad

Water suited her,
cleaved for her,
ran off her as,
barefoot on oakleaves, the
air transmuted her from
Naiad to Dryad.

(Image used by kind permission of to whom I am most grateful and you should go visit. The poem is my imagination and is not a reflection of their lifestyle)

1 comment:

  1. Yes, this is exactly the affect that the lake has on me! ~C