Just off the road
Behind some brush
And nearly within hail
Of Sue-Meg Park
Yet close to home
Hides Bub’s Secret Trail
The footpath’s worn
The roots exposed
And dotted with toadstools
The fallen trees
We clamber o’er
To play by diff’rent rules
For in this space
Within the trail
The Green Arena dwells
The stage is set
The curtains drawn
Anticipation swells
The beetles are
Our audience
And so are slugs and jays
The stump conks are
Our instruments
And we can play for days
Ravens, Flickers
Chip Squirrels, Thrush
Our backup vocals be
Eared Seals hear us
And we hear them
Though they be out to sea
Two days have passed
And though we’re home
We cannot really tell
For in our hearts
And in our minds
Winds Bubby’s Secret Trail
— Dad Commander
For Bub’s 5th Birthday
This article appears in Your Local Coven.
