my mystical meadow
the twisting root of the old tree reminds me of trolls
elves no doubt play in this ditch, singing and chanting
There is something magical about my tree-lined road
“Most desolate road in Kansas” dubbed one newspaper
But to me it is Thoreau’s Pond, but better.
I delight in the verdant grasses in the spring
Field of yellow daisies, queen Anne’s lace and dandelions
Clover is sprinkled all over this land; it is a magical meadow
I see faeries in the summer, flying in forms of dragonflies
Bees, wasps, mud daubers, and humming birds
If I take pictures, there are spiritual orbs when they are developed
This is a mystical place, a land of enchantment, my countryside.
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