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A Poem for Little Girls

Like a queen in her corridor,
She enters the glade.
Her subjects bow in the gentle wind.
Blessings rain upon her head
As the trees sing her name.
Over the smooth stones, her soldiers crawl
With little legs
Back to their homes.
The shade is sweet.
The aromas of royal blossoms float all about.
The lemon-lime flavor of freedom is there
And everywhere on the air.

She sits like the queen she is
On an infinitely soft cushion of the finest moss.
A single ray, a spotlight,
Breaks through the leaves to illuminate her jesters:
The spiders dance and crickets sing.
She closes her eyes and smiles upon them.
In a fallen apple, a worm wriggles a little farther.
He knows that he is safe under her majesty's rule.
A courier bird chip-chips the news.
The bees guard their vaults.

Be not afraid, you mothers,
If she dallies a moment before coming to dinner.

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