Tales from the Lupin Patch

Magic Carpet

Winter rains have coaxed the dry trails into a dense carpet of moss,
Soft to the touch and sweet in its smell.

I walk gently on this new growth,
Knowing that in mere weeks
The path will revert to the oak leaf mulch
And riverbed sand
Where it lay hidden through long months of drought.

Am I the first to tread on this year’s virgin green carpet trail?

No, I am not the first to walk along this fresh green path.

I see hoof prints from the doe that walked ahead of me
at this morning’s dawn.




An Excerpt from “Where the Red Tailed Hawk Flies”
Copyright 2004 by Gabriella Graham