Worlds

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