Dictionary

by Sharon Ashton



I am searching for a word
for that which Earth exhales
through snapped hedgerows 
and grasses cut through spring 
to late summer; for that fleeting-
sweet sense of being one with
Woodwose and the Holly King.

I am searching for a word
for that which Earth exhales
from moss-cushioned corners 
and forgotten grave-flowers;
for that echoing in aging mouths 
which hovers in the nostril
and claws at throat and memory.