Come My Friend

A poem based on childhood stories, for my girls.



Come my friend,
I will take you.
Morning after a rain.
Morning,
Dark still,
Quiet.
Wet and cool.

We’ll move
Stealthily,
Escape
Step into the grass,
Leave trouble sleeping,
Just this time.

We'll take a dirt path,
Soft and spongy,
Into the trees,
Aspens forming
A gate of sorts
Draped with
Unused expectation.

Leaving ours behind
We clear the gate,
Proceed anew,
Walk backward,
On tiptoe,
See if anyone
Is following.
A secret is more fun
With two.

We cross a stream.
A rough green log
Wobbles slightly
Under our weight.
Taking our time,
Striving for balance,
We cross,
Walk for hours
Until we are lighter.

Colors intensify.
Through the growth—
Through tangles of
Weed and willow,
A beaver pond
Shining in sunlight,
Stirring, rippling,
Shhhh,
A muskrat is working.

Hidden in shadow,
A spider’s web spans
Tree to tree;
It grips my face;
Distracted,
I struggle briefly with
The unexpected.

But there are bluebells to see,
Waist deep, and so many butterflies,
In so many weightless colors.
Strawberries so tiny, dainty,
And sweet--they must be fairy-food.
Toadstools, spotted and intense,
Growing at the path’s edges.
Waxy fungi cantilevered to tree bark,
Light through aspen leaves,
Lacy shadows on the forest floor.

Ferns; ferns, resting at the
Water’s edge, dipping their silly
Leaves into clear, cool water
Below lawns of lime green moss.
The stream makes them shimmy;
The water turns white
It churns over rock
And driftwood,
Toward the mountain’s base.

Nature captivates my attention
And my soul. I almost forget
The secret --why I brought you so far.
Henry, Dorothy and Freddie live
Here, deep in the forest,
In their ladybug houses.
If we are quiet,
We may see them.