“And the truth shall come from a child’s lips who has drunk from the elixir of time past and present.” – Linda Lee Lyberg
She, a pale child born suckling on wisdom’s tooth
Though her form is frail, she has all knowledge
Of the universe within each delicate finger
Caressing the wings of gentle butterflies
Delighting in the scent of lavender
As a golden crown of pollen adorns her head
Honeybees gather round, lulled
By the brightness of her musical laughter
Pausing midair to understand, to listen
To the calming nature of her ancient words
Imaginary Garden with Real Toads: April 2020 Days 6-10
The Reluctant Poet 