Cedar

Pure as a wedding dress
For which I cannot attest
Strolling on holy ground
Lovers do pin curses
Praise by the night
When the moon does
Make a mess of the light
Fabric’s folds cannot help
Me now that I tread lands
Long forgotten howls
Cedar branches twist
Pure as a wedding dress
For which I cannot attest
Words I never knew
Make themselves new
On the holy grounds
Where lovers do pin
Curses praised by night
When the moon does
Make a mess of the light