Laura Botsford

I walked along a wicker road to somewhere clean. Sometimes
when I think it’s time to go, a little bird comes along and whispers from a
tree that is indeed a good time to be free but the story of flight
must be told,

How the fragile grass can survive the step, is a miracle.

As morning brings a feather of dew softly upon its velvet green mat
and the rain comes to renew it from the crush.

Once again its spring is back, upright green and lush.

How startled is the discovered ground to find it’s just a
little taller the next day after under going so much.

Never the less, my front porch is fillled with geraniums and my back door is steeped in the scent
of honeysuckle.I musn’t despair, for love takes care to circle back again unknuckled

And though the years have craved the younger bloom

I am not certain that I would want the tomb.

Lovely summer and knowing Autum befalls me still

For each season is my reason to stay alive.

I have given the roads many a travel

Where that my heart unraveled the soul of a woman whose name
is neither a mans nor womans, but who is my one light

My one song

My universe

Up the staircase of my garden leads me to its fair retreat.

Where friends in their silent beauty I am sure to greet.