River Forest

Bonnie Manion

A path meanders the dappled shore,

wanders wellworn to a pebbly beach

where shallows sparkle, waffle, and

warble under the spreading sycamore.

 

The forest ascends in a giant crowd

its press of swaying, silent pillars

that inspire, shelter, and astound,

that tower ageless and enduring.

 

Lush prairie grass invites a tryst,

our afternoon reverie; lays silky soft

as a wood nymph’s nest, pungent

with earthy shoreline musk.   

 

A lacy, leafy, shimmering canopy

sifts shadows, mutes the sunlight,                                                                                         

rustles faintly, whispers softly,

casts its hazy spell near twilight.

 

We linger near the lapping shallows,

lean and laze by the sunstruck shore,

meander a passage through an arbor

 

timeless, taintless, noble and pure.