Green Gables Revisited
(Apologies to Lucy)
The bridge leads my dancing feet
up over a wooded hill beyond,
where perpetual twilight reigns
under the straight, tick-growing firs and spruces.
The only flowers are myriads of delicate June Bells,
those shyest and sweetest of woodland blooms,
and a few pale, aerial starflowers,
like the spirits of last year�s blossoms.
Gossamers glimmer
like threads of silver among the trees,
and the fir boughs and tassels
seem to utter friendly speech.
- Bob Miller