Standing atop a 'dozer hardened hill,
looking over the criss-crossed carcasses of cut over;
In the midst of devastation, lumber to mill,
one sees a two acre section of woods, tall and unscathed.

There, surrounded by track packed earth
and barked debris pressed into high hills,
in a land where only briers give birth,
stands this two acre patch of Paradise.

Faultless and free;
untouched and unhunted.
An island in the sea;
Oasis in the desert.

Within this Eden, plush and green,
sings an everlasting chorus;
Day and night, birds viewed and unseen
fill the air with song.
Animals know of this little Shangri-La, and daily come here.
Brown bunnies gather for games of tag and acrobatic exhibitions.
Buck, fawn and doe, graze without fear
in this magical wonderland.

Within a rusty enclosure of wrought iron, un-gated,
There lies a garden of grave markers.
Five in number, with epitaphs abraded
by weather and the passing of time.
Closer inspection could possibly disclose
who had been placed beneath the earth,
But, there is no gate.Its completely enclosed.
Entrance and disturbance had obviously
not been in the original plan.

Scarlet trumpets of honeysuckle
clutch and climb the iron barrier.
Sections have begun to buckle;
but generations of hummingbirds have thrived upon the nectar.

Until the sun begins to fade,
and I must make my journey home;
Here I sit, in soothing shade,
beneath a canopy of fragrant wisteria.
As the warm afternoon breezes of Spring blow through
I come, to sit quietly
Or to breathe soft tones through a tube of bamboo,
and watch the May Apples dance.

There are fairies here !  No, I am no liar.
Perhaps they harvest the fern seeds,
by which invisibility is acquired.
My eyes have not witnessed them,
But I often hear their soft giggles
as the last note of each tune fades into silence.

This is one of my favorite places.
Where, although set aside for death...
Life is abundant...
and celebrated.

***