In the shade a fallen tree trunk,
Makes a fine, if mossy, pew,
I sit and bask in sweet, cool air,
I soak the sounds and drink the view.
Honeyeaters loudly chirping,
Happy chatter in the trees,
Early morning sun glistens,
On a hundred thousand leaves.
Every ripe, green blade of grass,
Holds a dew drop like a pearl,
A sea of countless shimmering globes,
Decorate this hidden world.
Overhead two butterflies,
On wings of perfect angel white,
Rise and dip and circle round,
Staggering in drunken flight.
Foliage spreads out high above me,
Speckled blue with peeping sky,
Each tall tree becomes a ladder,
For a young, ambitious vine.
A lone, brave leaf descends a-twirling,
Lands upon the gentle stream,
Swirls around protruding stones,
Then sails away to chase its dream.
In the sunshine tiny flowers,
Form a floral chorus line,
Clothed in petals gold and purple,
Dancing to the breeze in time.
A kookaburra makes his entrance,
Swoops and lands upon the grass,
Looks around to find his friend,
So they both can share the laugh.
At my feet a carpet woven,
Detailed as a Persian rug,
Twigs and gumnuts, curled dry leaves,
Fine grass and a ladybug.
A dozen different hues of green,
A hundred shapes before my eyes,
Every plant is born unique,
I cannot see there two alike.
All creation shines with beauty,
Everything a gift of grace,
Always something there enchanting,
When I’m in my secret place.
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