Part 4: Dressa’s Cunning Thread (Last)

Anticipation, watching flowerpot through rain-
Streaked kitchen windowpanes, I wondered,
Will true love exist is “A’s” eyes, or have I been
Deceived by whimsical verses, beneath my
Pillow saved? Tapping, tapping at bedroom
Window opened wide, grove of trees, fleeting
Female dorm, bare feet in splashing rain.

Sweet scent of blooming vines, entanglements
Earth, trees, and water, of this I identified. Then
Front door knocking, “A” was here, first sight
Of face. My letter clutching, young woman
Wet to skin, at my feet collapsed. Sips of tea,
Warm broth, unwinding folds of flowing sash,
Arms, and legs, myriad tattoos revealed.

No, “A” was not as I imagined, her body inked
With trees, antlered deer, letters, words I could
Not read, prompting me to ask, “Who are you,
Child, your name?” Faint response: “Dressa.”
Copper tub I bathed her, washing matted hair.
Rousing moments, she explained, “I’m priestess
Of Brigit – fire, healing, ancient verse.”

“My name means ‘briar,’” Dressa added. “Pagan,”
I whispered to myself, seduced by Druidic verse,
Arms and legs resting in my bed. Thus realized,
Letter “A” was her cryptic form of “D.” Cunning
Thread, connecting me to self, I kissed her as if
My daughter, but felt otherwise. As fates decreed,
Eyes turned away, I loved Dressa as my own. 

Thanks for reading. 

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