You were primeval and you knew it: 
the colours of fire and springtime
calling to my hard winter skin.
I was wounded,
cocooned in a ball of cuts and blood and broken branches
waiting for a reason to re-emerge. 

I lost myself.
And waited. 

And you were already there
and patient
and hypnotic
and drew closer by degrees
with the arc of your warmth encircling me.

I trusted you. 
I thawed. 
I melted and unfolded headlong into you.

Privately I was obsessed by you,
danced circles around you 
in an orbit of growth and becomings. 

I worshipped you – 
my accidental goddess: 
all flame and spring and phosphorus white magnolia heat.