At the edge of the apple grove the spring comes above ground
and wanders across the meadow laughing in delight at the change of season.

Water Fall

A slide of green velvet moss,
a plush pile carpet of leaves,
water carbonated with laughter –
this is the spot where the fairies play.


You no longer tell time by new rings.
Now as a beam, you measure time
by the nights and days of shelter you provide,
absorbing laughter and tears into your fibers and history.

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