Green Man prowling in the woods at midwinter.
Green Man dodging through the dripping trees.
Green Man alert, pausing to scent the air.
‘If I were a Christian, I would be sitting by a crib.
If I were a Quaker, I would be sitting quietly
opening to that of God within.
If I were a Sufi mystic, I would be dancing
crying out to God ‘Where can I find you now?’
‘But I am the Green Man
and I will not shirk today’s hard task.’
Green Man dressed in midwinter clothes.
Green Man shaggy with ivy, prickled all over with holly.
Green Man berries are white, Green Man berries are red.
Green Man explores his beloved’s body.
There is no part of her that he does not love
no part of her that does not inflate him with desire.
Her trees are infinitely branched
her bark is infinitely grained.
She drips with moisture, her streams run wet.
Her cover is gone, she is naked at midwinter;
she is quiescent and sleepy at midwinter.
When he is huge enough to match her
he knows her.
They have come together again.
The taste of her leaf mould is on his lips.
The scent of earth is in his nostrils.
Green Man is empty, and she is full.
All that is new for this year is springing in her.