When the night is full of mist and shooting stars abound,
the oaks begin their slow descent to Jackamiah’s Pond.
They drink their fill and wash their leaves, then beckon to the moss
who line up at the water’s edge and watch the Pathway’s Cross.
At three past twelve the moon aligns and shines into their door;
the lumpy toads come from within and hop down to the shore.
As they jump onto the moss, the maids that dwell within
alight onto the velvet boats, bound for Jetty Lin.
They stitch a quilt of gossamer to warm them underground
and gather sweet forget-me-nots without a single sound.
All at once a breeze blows through; the oaks call once again.
It’s time to board the velvet boats – away from Jetty Lin.
They laugh and talk and race a bit, and as they touch the shore
transform into the lumpy toads just like they were before.
The velvet moss returns again to niches in the log;
last to leave, the weary oaks tread uphill in the fog.
A rosy dawn spreads o’er the crest – a silken, magic wand . . .
and all is tranquil once again on Jackamiah’s Pond.
Every Day Writer 