I live on an island, I can’t deny.
And it’s easily bigger than a giant’s eye.
Gigantic trees grow there
Taller than a moss-tree
Easily taller than that by three.
In springtime they sprout
By summer they’re full out
Their feathery fronds
Sheltering all around
But those feathery fronds
Also shelter us from sun
And when they shrivel and dry
The sun is already gone from the sky
But I’m telling you this
The soil of my island home
I’ll gladly kiss
crispina kemp 
What a lovely story/ poem
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This is great fun. Who is the inhabitant? Snail? Frog? Wood fairy?
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I’m thinking it’s a fairy. Has to be.
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🙂
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How delightful Cris, I can just picture the wee folk cavorting amongst the forest of feathery fronds. What a great perspective. 🙂
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Thank you. There are times I post the photo and then think OMG what am I going to write?
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What an enchanting island for the wee fairy folk! Wonderfully done! (How the hell did I miss this? Never mind… I shall not fret about it!)
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You cannot be more chaotic than I am at the moment. 🙂
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I can very well imagine. I sort of lived that two years ago when I moved from the big house to this little house… where stuff is STILL in boxes
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I freak at the chaos. I MUST have order.
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Oh dear…
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Yea, that doesn’t bode well, does it
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Definitely not.
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🙂
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I just read this today, Crispina. It is wonderful! I love this poem.
Nan
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Thank you, Nan
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