In the tree

"Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocketful of gold,
A treasure-trove in springtime,
Worthless in the cold.
Start from your doorstep,
Faces turned west,
Up the wooded hillside,
Over its crest.
Down among the giant stems,
Down across the glen,
To where the cattle feed and browse,
And uphill again.
Find a prelate in a pail,
A crown upon a tree,
Find the garden of a nymph,
And there find me."
 ~Spiderweb for Two: A Melendy Maze, Elizabeth Engright
I saw this out on one of my walks, and had to return with the camera for its picture...


Jodi said…
I'm so glad you went back for your camera. And the poem is just perfect.