forested fables

i found a rock fat with moss and sat upon it

thinking of rolling to the bottom of the hill

where i knew you’d be waiting my arrival

i didn’t want to leave my perch just then

so i pondered the mysteries of blue skies

green grass and rain-dark trees singing

in the wind to themselves arms aloft

i pictured you as a light-shy sylvan elf

stalking about in the shadows below

or as an owl peering from tree’s hollow

grimacing down on the world at large

why am i picturing you as grumpy?

dark and rumpled and crochety

like an old bear awakened early from sleep

i’m suddenly shy, unsure and afraid

will you tread on my spritely pixie toes?

i’m tiptoeing timidly down to meet you —

and there you are at last, light-kissed

sun-dappled, smiling bashfully back

the leaves tracing patterns on your face …

and so the rolling stone came home

to you, and you sat with me on a pillow

of moss under the shade of the willows