By Joan McPheron
The invitation written
In flowing green script
On a background of pale blue tissue
Whispers
“Come on in.”
A nuthatch heralds with a flapping of wings and a welcome cry
“Come on in.”
A playful breeze taps my shoulder
“This way.”
Wild petunias dressed in demure shades of pink
peek out shyly under shaded trees
The fire pink glows
Tiny torches point the way
I gather mountain mint to brew some tea
And pick plump raspberries and wild grapes for dessert.
The leaves rustle under my feet
Speaking in raspy voices
“Stay awhile.”
I follow the breeze
Through a field of regal Queen Anne’s lace
Past wild prairie roses
To a white wooden bridge where
The purple iris nod and say…
“Come again soon.”
My feet rest on hallowed ground.
The peace of the Marsh surrounds.
Friends of the Limberlost 