under
the roots she lurks......below the tree limbs and above the grassy blades she lingers...
...behind a tree she hides, bark to fingertip, fingertip to bark
and yet to the untrained eyes she evades...a leaf bedecked dryad?
she moves furtively in and out among the ivy.
even the greenman knows her very name and
the shape of the cute birthmark that
decorates her
left knee
"she knew the risks and took them all the same,
that was both her charm and her downfall."
thank you for visiting
her virtual bog.....
there is a welsh cottage somewhere...
made of stone.....
look for her there
someday, i'll be there sitting on the deck
...under the green umbrella...
book in hand
i'm home. finally.
it only took 218 years.
i'll put the kettle on.
