Green

Winter and the shortest day When we climbed the stone Steps up a wooded hill Side. Somewhere. I forget the exact Spot. Only that it was soundless Still On that afternoon and green With ivy, mosses, yew. Juniper and a holly tree As yet unberried. A place Half holy, ancient. We Paused to rest. The holly And the ivy hymn their Christmas song. The Green Knight Has his chapel and the Green Man his likeness. Light Was the touch of your gloved Hand on mine as insubstantial As the fluttering moment too soon Gone. For us a brief contentment. As we turned again into the fading Afternoon.