I crawl between covers

Snuggle with pirates and beekeepers

Curled up on the greening floor

Where may pops shake out their shoulders.

Nearby a fiddler plays fluffy tunes

Spun from silken sunbeams

Caught in a net by yellow finches

Perched high above a sea of waving leaves

Until a crane swoops down

Tucks one underwing then flies

Away with his captured prize.

A pair of eyes pop up

Above the pages I’ve been leafing through

Honey eyes that speak

Of treasure in the heart of forsythia.

I set down my book

Crawl inside the understory

Where we snuggle in a nest of gold.

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