Gothica - Under the Dock Leaves

Under the Dock Leaves

You slide across the branches,
Your glitter is fertile pollen,
you are shadows in the shape of leaves.
A wind that ripples the crest of waves against the current,
You caress the rivers but you are the springs.
Your eyes: buds which are moistened by the dew,
Beyond webs of obscurity.
The branches swing you
Then you glide on your transparent wings.