Spinous grasses tickle my knees
Nettles sting mischievously
Buttercups grin at the bees
Swamps bloom as previously
The ground bears hoofprints
Path lures with the scent of lemon balm
The trail leads to a meadow, It’s calm
Only the unicorn feasts on the quince
Skewers the fruit on it’s horn
And amiably neighs at dawn
Approaches and bows as a call to partake
To stray from the path was a divine mistake
The astringent ceremony
And amid the rustling anemones
The omen of beatitude in sanctimony
Unicorn
© Copyright: Екатерина Шемчишина, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125120605603
Свидетельство о публикации №125120605603
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