Holly King and the Black Cherry

She shelters him. Her body leans in with arms that caress. They are two yet one. They are distinct, yet of one consideration. One purpose.

‘Am I not the source of your joy?’ She says to him. ‘Are you not in my fold, in the crossing of my arms?’ He answers.

She bends in the wind toward him. Sharing his boundaries as they grow, she basks in his glory.

Unconditional