The Yew at the Inn
In sunrays atop the yew,
Dewy webs housing sleepy spiders
Along red-berried sides,
Morning bees and wasps,
Afternoon butterflies and evening moths,
Scent attracted, sweetly satisfied.
In shadows beneath the yew,
Shiny mushrooms fencing a squirreled
Oblong after an inn gardener’s shaping,
The yew sprouts a brighter green,
Fearlessly reaching out all around,
Life attracted, lushly satisfied.