Poem-A-Day: Day 211

Natural Wealth

Somewhere where the willows weep,
the cats tell tall tales,
and Queen Anne dons her finest lace linens
to hear their herald howls
among the oak and pine walled rooms
leaning in, and listening
as the walls often do.
The storied past is read aloud
for the denizens of the glen,
and much like the fabled framework,
the morels seem to bud from the dirt
in their own strange and truffling way.

I walked in on this queer spectacle,
stunned, and piss drunk,
but it was some natural beauty
I have never witnessed since;
the world working harmoniously
to tell me some story that more than likely
I forgot until this point.