Beyond the Geese’s Pen

Caroline and Morse the cat,
And Lester next to Clyde—
Frogs that croak from where they’re sat,
On silky mushrooms wide.

Twilight washed in orange tint,
A silhouetted tree,
Bats that twirl in starry glint,
In pirouetting glee.

“At my side — my sprightly broom,
On which to fly away,
Seeking out a quiet room,
Beyond the glare of day…

In the forest shadows black,
I’ll find a darksome den,
Wandering the midnight track,
Beyond the geese’s pen.

There I’ll build a hut for one,
Or two if I count Morse,
With the frogs in tow, for fun,
It would be four, of course.

Then, a happy family,
A congregation small,
Morse to guard the balcony,
And herbs hung from the wall.

Underneath the smiling moon,
Preparing spells that heal,
Heady smells to make one swoon,
With powerful appeal.

Flying o’er forest glen—
Away to greet the sea,
Watching stars with handsome men,
Below the cypress tree.

Underneath the falling stars,
We’ll kiss and kiss again,
On the clifftop, under Mars,
Caressing where we’ve lain.

Then returning to my hut,
With Morse upon my broom,
We’ll sleep with all the shutters shut,
Within our peaceful room.”

ADL