Without a sound the prairie wolf appears
Then darts below into the tangled vines
While seeking distance from misguided fears
A banded kingsnake b’neath a rock reclines
The tortoise with its blackened shell once blinks
Revealing it is real, with wizened face
Leaves us to wonder what it really thinks
Of those inclined to move at fleeter pace
With certainty I felt I knew this land
I roam its weathered path around and round
Its song, its scent, its sage so master-planned
Yet now three guests arrived without a sound
Refreshed by new life, ready to discover
What secret winged sprites do nearby hover?

by Dorothea Barth ©2013

This entry was posted on Friday, August 9th, 2013 at 7:53 pm and is filed under Dorothea Barth, Fairy Poems, Spiritual. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.