An older poem but fitting for summertime
A Secret Place
Secrets grow here along the fence rows
at the edge of our small town.
Where all the interesting plants come
to congregate, settle themselves down.
Sassafras jostles with hedge-apples,
milkweed twines with briary blackberry vines,
maple saplings wrestle with oak.
And all the wee folk play hide and seek
with black-eyed Susan’s and run away
brandishing Queen Anne’s lace;
while Bachelor buttons corner shy violets.
A secret place: to climb unobserved, unseen
and sway one with the wind.
A mulberry bends under my small weight
—its fruit to taste: the secret place.
c. Darlene Moore Berg