The way was crisscrossed with roots and rocky.
Bellissa, the wood nymph, carefully tread
The sunlit path of shadow and dappled light.
Her ears were full of the music playing:
The symphony of green rustling leaves and
The decrescendo of the cicadas.
A crescendo of a dog’s barking by the shore
Caught her attention, and she hid in the silver birch.
The excited pup romped, shaking off an avalanche of drips.
She climbed toward a peak, leaving the shore behind,
The wind grew stiffer and the trees bent.
Ahead lay possibility, wonder and magic.
Always moving toward the next place,
Where imagination filled in the wood with secrets,
Caves, trolls, dragons, gnomes, friends and foe.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham