Via Dolorosa

 
Was it your rooted glint that pulled the compass
westward between a patina of woody lichen  
crusted under boots, delicate cartilage of foliage  
broken remains of a marching Autumnal equinox
 
Was it gifted by an abandoned stray in worship
to the forest Dryad for its blessed Sanctuary  
crouched before your hidden portal offering  
its metal upon the altar of your transfiguration
 
It summoned my empty finger so I slipped  
it onto an absolute fit. Is this my honeymoon  
marriage upon a timbered mattress of seeds
under the scurrying canopy of gatherings
 
Entrusting your masculine bark to outstretch  
Enfold these aching steps against your chest  
~