My walk in the woods is oft filled with chimeras;
pungeant crunch below, aloft a leafy canopy, play
of light and shadow, and winging free, a thought:
am I part of nature, or ought nature be part of me?
Seeing an old tree stump makes me think of funky
fairy tales I've been told...where creatures take on
human features, their home down a rabbit hole:
squirrels, bees or baby bears, possums or a polecat.
Or, maybe a merry lady with purple painted nails,
a ruffled clown collar, clown-face and pigtails,
ready to party, pumped full of fun in her stump,
popping out like a leprechann when the sun goes down
In woodsy sifting sunlight and occluded shifting shadows,
the sound of droning insects and my disappearing troubles,
I sleep in the peaceful wildwood with feasting perceptions,
my bed lying fragrant and grassy as the lazy river shimmers.
first published in Brigantine Gallery
also published in Illinois State Poetry Society
©2017 Bonnie Manion