Their pathway was strangely laid;
For in places pebbles strayed.
Having been knocked loose,
From it’s mortars noose.
The trail in other fantastic sections,
Beautiful with imperfection,
Measuring from 3 to 9 feet across;
In patterns wove in Celtic knots.
In odd places; there were stepping stones.
Moistened soil; no foliage stood alone.
Nor did it grow over the steps,
That were manicured and well kept.
The road wound-
To spiral around-
The low hills with growth new,
Upon them lay a bright residue.
There were large boulders of varying size.
In red, blue and purple; Easy on the eyes.
The boulders were placed, as if in strategic locations.
Kept the thorough fare dry; or moist for creation.
In an endless corridor to defend,
Of the mode at one particular bend,
Whereas they climbed around a sharp curve.
In the switchbacks like the inner nerve.
Much to their astonishment
to see in such abandonment,
Was an elaborate display
Of wild flowers at play.
Dark passion purples!
Five perfect petals!
Each of the five,
Soft as they thrive.
Their shape as a teardrop-
With an inner vault.
Sharp point at center-
Fill the tear, then wider.
Curved at the edges in delicate decadence.
Weaving lace deliciously with elegance.
The blue mist glittered in the sun.
Late afternoon; fate of prisms undone.
Rainbows delightfully bright.
Dancing waves of colorful light.
The exquisite floral reached incredible heights.
Over and a top DragonBlue, filtering light.
(She was no small creature, to be sure)
Flamboyant and Magickal in its allure.
The air was full of energy.
That they could almost see…
Along the ground there grew;
Small bright red mushrooms,
With white spots close to the root-
Toxic when tasted, yet still a fruit.
The floriferous garden that lay;
Atop the soil with long, stringy legs
Sank deep into the earth...
Bright yellow butterflies;
Fed and fertilized.
Seedlings from the blossoms floret,
it's nectar tasting succulent.
As ALL life is ONE remains-
Flourishing in this rich terrain.
The sky above pure blue without clouds-
Forever onward without any sounds.
DragonBlue and MoonChild of Gaea continued to stare,
At the natural mural designed with mother earth’s flare.
Gaea’s own special brush of unconditional love,
Gifting of Herself with life force, below and above.