Spying a Harbinger of Spring, I step out in my Pink Lady’s Slipper

Onto a Lizard Tail.  Up I go, climbing Jabob’s Ladder

Until The rays of dawn lift the mist like Prairie Smoke through the forest.

The Swamp Candles wink out.  I breakfast on Butter and Eggs.


A Hound’s Tongue is like a Dragon’s Mouth here.

The Bleeding Hearts on Yellow Bedstraw beat without rhythm,

Hung up in Slender Ladies’ Tresses. 

I peer through Venus’ Looking Glass and see naught but dew.


My Goat’s Beard is wiry and stout, the admiration of even Indian Paintbrush

Which stands proud and stiff for the Queen Anne’s Lace.

Double, double, toil and trouble the Enchanter’s nightshade,

It makes a Marsh Mallow of a Bull Elephant’s Head


And once caught a Dutchman without his Britches.