Both here

and there,

without and

within –

the separation obscured

by lace-edged ferns and

tree limbs’curious,

leaf-fingered

reach;

by ivies’ slow

curling growth

up the slim, inarguable

certainty of even-spaced

moss-tarnished,

bars.

Easy

as idle breeze,

careless

as wish.

Encircling spokes

sweep aloft and out of sight,

beyond the guardian-

ship of trees –

one story,

two stories,

three –

a slow curvature

chased,

traced,

defined

by a staircase of

weightless, spiral

filigree.

Within, without;

without,

within…

Come in,

come in.

Don’t hesitate.

Pull back the narrow,

decorative gate–

coil-spring hinges

announce each rare

visitor —

and cross the dip

and swell of moss-

carpeted

floor.

A central table blooms

an invitation of china

cups and saucers;

tea-pot, steaming;

a plate of

cake.

Clear a space.

Pull out a chair.

Sit and stay and linger,

breathing,

safely embraced and

enclosed neither here

nor there; without

or within;

both betwixt

and

between.

 

— C.Birde, 8/19