Wednesday, August 3, 2016


A dark verdant canopy of tumbling vines
A lattice of lacework, entangled, entwined
The sun filters through
Onto cucumbers, squash
I marvel at droplets of dew all awash
Sweet day peeps twinkle and sparkle
     And shine
In this lovely small world
Mystic, shrouded, divine
As underneath the canopy I peek
A soft caress across my cheek
I turn around slowly
And ask, “Who is there?”
Not a whisper, no sound
Just small face with a stare
It disappears quickly
The leaves closing tight
Then I hear giggles
From a sprite out of sight
I slow part the vines and look
     into green eyes
This lovely and whimsical sprite
     who’s age five
We look at each other
And then we both know
We’ve met before

Under the ancient pine bough