- Alone With a Daisy
Small blossoms laced the narrow path-- they were
White daisies, she recalled. And from the mound,
Where jutting branches of a Burr oak sprawled
Across the rock-filled stream, a tapping sound
Came from an old woodpecker on his limb,
Who then protested to the summer weeds,
Whenever breezes blew. She lingered there,
Until the twilight planted sliver seeds
Above her in long meadowlands of night.
The weeping birch suppressed a gentle moan,
As heaven fell into a deeper spell,
Brought by the moon. And then she was alone.
Alone, to drift among the elements.
Then like a spirit form that disappears
With dawn, she slowly left-- though no one grieved
Except one daisy, stained in morning tears.
.
