Summer's hike on Pilgrim Creek turned up a
secret, sunlight grove in the trees
quiet, misty, mossy clad, downed trees
dappled with rays, tiny insects, and
a breath-holding silence.
Easy to imagine and sense magic
in such a secluded spot, almost not-heard
sounds tickling the corner of one's ears
and almost not-seen movements dancing
on the edge of vision.
(Posted for Poetry Potluck Week 44, 7/18/11)