My Enchanting Vixxen

 She came from deep within the wood,
    Mistral,
         smoky,            
              vaporous.
Beckoned me, but dare I should,
To follow on her gliding course.

Her countenance eluded me,
I wasn’t sure ‘twas substance, real.
Was it only fog among the trees?
    Or surreal
         illusion,
               ethereal.

 I followed on, unable to stop,

                                    or unwilling.
My mind captured by this vision,
My feet given freedom and direction
By the same force that had
      my mind
              imprisoned.

Then all at once within the glade,
She stood before me, crystal clear,
Her hair a glowing bright cascade
Caressing shoulders,
      ghostly,
             sheer.
Her eyes held mine in frozen stare
Yet burned with blazing passion,
She seemed so burdened with despair
Yet filled with deep compassion.

And as she slowly came toward me,
She reached with outstretched hand
And gently pulled me close to see
The pain she could not stand.

And like the Prophet, understood
That pain is but the fire,
That burns the vessels’ bowl of wood
That’s filled with joy’s desire.

Within her hands she held my face
And smiled with lips so sweet,
Then kissed me with such gentle grace
Surrender was complete.

My mind, my heart, my total being
Was owned by her that night,
And like a dream, the moment fleeting,
My Vixxen soon took flight.

At times, in hope, I’ll walk that wood,
And ponder that occasion,
And wish that once more, if I could,
       To meet
             My Enchanting
                               Vixxen.

 N.F. Biron  11/2000