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Updated: May 19, 2022

A Sprite, a butterfly, a Spirit,

A nymph visited my garden today.

I looked up to see such a sweet sight hidden in amongst the vines and plants,

A beautiful nymph-lurking sprite,

“Well, hello there,” I greeted,

And she didn’t flit away.

But stayed to say, “Let’s pick carrots today,”

“Why yes,” I reply, “and some tomatoes, and okra,

A radish or two,

A beet is a treat,

And Annie beans too,

And peppers of all colors and hue,

And spices and herbs,

Let’s pick them together me and you.

Let’s plant and pick,

And pick and plant together,


You and me,

For you see,

It’s your garden too!

You radiant nymph you!”

I was excited delighted,

To have her here with me,

The little busy bee.

We picked and planted till dark,

You see,

Then in a turn of events,

I vanished that night,

Leaving her here, My Sprite,

Alone In my garden,

No longer me,

The nymph,

my Spirit in she.

*from “Poetry on My Mind,” 2020, p.82

Arthor’s Note: Why must we die? Perhaps we don’t. We live on in the eternal Spirit, perhaps from whence we came? Ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny.

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