a fairy circle where no fairies went
on dew-wet hillside in the still-grey light
a youthful mind gives meaning to the sight
but older heart recalls and is content
merely to pause and let the eye's descent
on harsher images and recent blight
blot out that peace still the calm old forthright
urgings of memory will not relent
now golden mushroom at the porch's end
in northern morning brings back younger days
a world adjacent just beyond the veil
so wait to see what messages they send
while the sun rises to its noontime blaze
and all the forest seems now to exhale
No comments:
Post a Comment