The Enchantress is the last poem in a trilogy. "The Hill" is the first one followed by "The Solstice."

The Enchantress

They used to say she was different, and not of their world, this strange woman of the forest. She spoke to the animals and they responded with affection. Of earthly treasures she cared not a whit. Always in commune with her surroundings, she walked her chosen, winding pathway with assured steps. At the stream in the glow of an early moon, she disrobed and immersed in the cool, healing waters.As the water caressed and washed over her, she shivered and thought of the Masters’ touch. Her entire body was now in its primal state of openness. Her tongue tingled with that familiar sense of desire. As she submerged, her wild, dark mane floated on the surface and glistened in the soft light. Fawns, gathered along the banks to watch and protect, reflected her image in their large, sloe shaped eyes. When she stepped out of the waters, she spread her arms, threw her head back, and with the moon rays caressing her, she sang. Low voiced at first, her sound became louder and soon soared upward on the night air. She had become the enchantress and knew that he could hear her calling. Then, gathering the leaves and herbs from the trees and bushes, anointed her body with their scented juices. She was ready to go to him knowing he would be waiting in the glade by the sacred white oak tree, not impatiently, but certain she would come to him soon. He was all that she desired and had given her heart to him. He was prepared to die for her love. Their union had been blessed by the learned men on the sacred hill, and now their marriage would be completed on this night, in the forest.

From "The Journey: A Nomad Reflects."

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Also for Sale:

Don’t Die with Regrets: Ireland and the Lessons my Father Taught Me.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/0615975860