build our nest with love
line it with forget-me-nots
stay all summer long

Wild geraniums collected
in pocket, red painted petal stains
my feet squish, squash in this forest
the earthy mud a mossy sponge
with fern and lichen the trees are hung
upon the ground greening with maidenhair fern
my satchel filled with dainty floral sprigs
in spring the sparrows gathering vine and twig
June's an efflorescent carpeting, soft with lady slippers
in summer the wildflowers and grasses wed
when celebrates all the flying things
wooded bees and butterflies in the sun
sparkling with faceted, glistening wings.

Just when you think
the road leads to nowhere
crops up the moss veiled house

its crumbling bricks make greyer
the sky with the hush of twilight
and you rue with melancholy
the night under its roof assigned for you

but the old man like a seasoned spider
lets you forget you're trapped for the night
to his web spun from timeworn earth
as you stare engrossed upon his face
outlined by glowworm sparks

he recounts it was all marshland
he grew into bowl of harvest
and how he was blessed with
the most beautiful woman on earth
then reaching the crescendo
his words thin into whispers
when he tells you his two poor eyes
were not enough to hold her beauty
so she putting a stone on her heart
spread wings on a night like this

the cornfield wilted
he wizened into an endless wait
with gracious death saving his bones
to lighten his heart to a stranger
who comes alone.

words wend their merry way
appear from thin air
the breath of a butterfly

There's something about stars
Have you ever gone out to a field, laid down a blanket, and just stare at them?
They're just beautiful to look at
They're simply beautiful because they're being themselves, shining at night

I walked the almost
Deserted beach
Late afternoon
The sun was minting coins
On the placid waters
It was indeed a beautiful
Day awakening my
Poetic imagination
I sat for a while deep
In thought
How could such a place
Turn so hostile and frightening
Storms and thunderous waves
shipwrecks, men drowned
Hostile predators deep under
The lashing waves?
I walked quietly away
At least today the sea
Was behaving itself

Keith   Wilson  
Birthwaite July 2015