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.
Comments welcome . . .