Fresh

Fog hangs amaranthine
over the green meadow
sunlight peaking through
and, slowly, overtaking
the earthbound cloud.
Woods surround on all
sides and the grass
reaches over the boy’s
head.
What could here
be hidden, in this old
fairyworld hidden from
the cold gaze of adult
society?
Is a magic
treasure buried here?
A crystaline cavern,
entrance just beyond
sight behind those big
old trees, there?
Or
the headstones of a
long-forgotten graveyard?
He finds a patch of
tall goldenrods pointing
with humble pride up
to their god the Sun
and absorbs himself in
wondering over each slight
detail.
The ghosts and
sylphs silently smile
as they watch the boy
discover the world in
its eternal freshness.

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