St. Colman's Well

A white butterfly rests on the
yellow buttercups, purple Bloody Cranesbill petals,
veins seemingly painted on,
growing out of the moss-covered rock.

Dandelions turn from yellow to white
and St. Colman's well gurgles a backbeat.
A huge round bee dartles a flower
and gnats float past my eyes.

I am in a primeval forest,
intruder to organic life,
ecological Garden of Eden,
ancestral lands.

The butterfly beckons then disappears in the white blue sky, then returns and circles me sun-wise.
Tiny-fingered ferns blow in the breeze
and white milky cocoons rest gently in their leafy nests.

Gift of timelessness and buzzing bees,
babbling brook,
soaring dragonflies,
warm sun on my skin.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2019


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