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Writings and Photography by George Dula, Dooley MacBride &  Hemlock Evergreen
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The Kilted Woodland Floor

My Lady most fair, woman I’ve come to trust, to adore
Arm in arm, hand in hand, we stroll together across the Land
She, holding her long dress high, almost to her knees,
Filling my heart with passion with the views afforded me…

High tussocks of grasses amidst the shortly shorn heaths,
Punctuated by thistles grown tall as our heads;
Taking care not to snag her fine clothes,
As we wind our way across the fae high meadows…

The ground at our feet is lowering steadily
As we approach the gently flowing stream ahead;
Pure clear water come out of the Highlands,
At the edge of the woodlands it now runs gaily and proud…

Aside water’s edge we look for stepping stones,
Yet finding none, taking my woman into my arms,
Her arm draped safely around my neck as she gentles herself there,
I step into the water, carrying my wondrous Lady, to the other side…

Finding deep soft mosses in the beech-woods beyond,
Amongst boulders and ferns, ‘neath mighty hawthorns and firs,
Gently, her feet lowered to soft mossy woods floor, where her face meets mine;
Softly we kiss, tenderly with love, gazing into her eyes of grays and greens…

Deftly she reaches to me and unfastens my sash,
Letting it fall to my front as I take her strongly into my arms;
Frantically then, yet gently with tenderness, our raiments fall away
As I gaze admiringly, noting how well dressed she looks though fully undone…

The woolen kilt which I’ve worn, we lay down upon the mosses,
Versatile garment, ‘tis my garb, my cloak, and now our soft blanket
Where m’lady and I shall make love, by the babbling stream ‘neath the trees,
My kilt of Earthy grays and greens, blending well with the lushness surrounding…

Trees sway with our passions, lands shake and waters flow uphill
As we turn the world on its heels with the wonder which is us,
Becoming one with the Powers as we offer that which we have,
And renew our love via our passions, our lusts, and our gentle touch…

After, we sit there savoring each other, enjoying the closeness
As we look upon one another – and liking that which we see;
Gently, she blushes and pulls a corner of the kilt up over her breasts
Then meets my eyes again, as we both merrily laugh, a laughter full of love…

She’s a vision I’ll never forget, not ever, I swear,
My dark tartan the color of stones, lichens and ferns,
Laid protectively across her fair soft fair shoulders and breasts,
Its weave bringing out the colors in her eyes, shining brightly for me…

I move to her then, again, taking her face in my hands, kissing her lips
As her mouth meets mine, and by the Gods, her hand lets loose its grip
The wool fell away, exposing her fair wonders to all Nature again – and to me,
As we gently lay back to play, to explore, to savor yet one more time…

Later, gently holding one-another as we lay upon soft cushion of moss,
We pull the kilt over us protectively as afternoon sun sinks away o’er the hills
Her head nestled gently upon my shoulder, she encircled by my arm,
As we simply savor one-another’s company for as long as we can…

That day was a fine one, as grand as they get,
I can see it yet, without even shutting my eyes,
As I carry her again across the flowing cold waters
And we walk together, arm in arm, her head laid softly
against my shoulder…


Written in 2006 by Hemlock Evergreen

© George Dula


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