Deep in the mist

When deep in the mist
     of a wooded glen,
My memory beckons
     to childhood friends.
In dulcet tones
     both lilting and lyrical,
I call to them
     the magical and mythical.
The nymphs that dance
     'neath the mayapple's shade,
And fairies that flit
     in a frenzied parade.
On a skunk cabbage throne
     sits an elfin king,
And a frog prince waits
      near a rainfed spring.

Barbara L. Steinberg
May 1985