In her mind she saw it...

      a place for her alone;

            though it was not really

                   somewhere that she had known.

Yet still she saw it clearly

      on her deep and inward eye,

            that place of total greenness

                   beneath a pale blue sky.

A stream of silvered water

      curved...just so...around her tree,

            rippling past the the tufts of grasses,

                   on its way to some far sea.

Her tree had many branches

      bending low above the land

            so without any straining

                   she could touch them with her hand.

Grass was growing everywhere,

      with not a single weed,

            and she could prop against her tree

                    with a book or three to read.

Perhaps she'd write a poem,

     or maybe watch the sky

            and listen to the little stream

                    gently flowing by.

Yes...when she was finished

     with the ledgers for the day,

            all the columns added,

                     all the papers filed away.

She'd sit inside the homeward bus

     in the best seat she could find

            for walking on the grasses

                     in the meadows of her mind.    




Jo Anzalone   Oct. 30, 2006