Happiness
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Don't get excited, It's just the garden, A squirrel on the Oak tree, Bird-song and sunlight. The young woman in a dream Opened the gate ever so gently, And you jerked awake To beds full of flowers Not a one in motion. There was Stillness in her arms. Behind her a blur of empty readiness As though there were realities in the making. In this enchanted garden, With its blue sky, Tree and flowers a religion, A lost Ladybug headed the wrong direction, perhaps, Under the shadow of your yellow, sun-reflecting shoe? © Crane 2006 |