Coffee simmering in the wood

Evening draws close,light playing tricks,
rings of magic, oaks, strong limbs to the earth
holding up a stormy sky.
Beams of sunshine where the copse is thin
light up the bark playing tricks with me.
Who was she, dressed in gossamer,
pictures in my nursery book.
Shy, unafraid we smiled from different worlds
did not talk,she of the earth,mine of dreams.
who wished dreams more real,
my hopes . . .What of my hopes?
Her hopes she did not say, I did not ask,
gossamer and silver birch, pealing bark,
canoes shooting rapids,
'til, reached by evening light.
Sleeping waters and busy beaver
Where the copse is thin sunbeams dazzle
magic oaks, strong limbs to the earth
gentle blue of smoke and orange glow,
coffee simmering in the wood.