Hutch

Of her arms, this was her sin:

Where the wood berries bin

Of forest was new and full,

She crept out by its tall

Posts, those wooden legs,

And heard the sound of wild pigs.

Calling and did not wait nor care.

The leaves wept in her hair

As she sank to a pit of needles

And twisted out the ivy-less

Gate, where the wood berries bin

Was full and a pig came in.