These exclamation points,
and their idols, mustachioed
warriors, grimacing dragons,
as imperturbable as gargoyles.
A fairy tale of painted flower,
arabesque detail: These artists
of the wood, oh! As a child
of quietude, I had often sat
under a tree, Bohemian-in-training,
gazing between leaves, at the clouds
edging across my blue-green life, birds
reeling, boasting of the enchanted world,
and I had dreamed as all children can
and should, heart open, ready and willing
to soar into magic. I go back, each time,
on a curved beam, a carved wing, I go back.