She drew my eyes to her,
ivy of the woods.
She stood out
as a black hole of darkness
amidst the low light of Winter’s sun.
Pleasant was the air among the trees,
sun’s rays lighting
smooth and rough skin of the trees,
warming earth for the Blue Bells,
still asleep,
save only in the middle of the woods,
among the trees,
a place where ivy profusely grows,
a great hole of darkness,
so strong that she nearly
drank thirstily
the bright light of the woods.
She drew my eyes to her,
ivy of the blessed well,
but full of light now,
wet,
on the sides of steps
going down to the blessed well,
wet, reflecting
light around a dark place
ivy, light of the blessed well.
With the grace of God, ivy
from darkness to light.
copyright Kevin Connelly 2012