Slip

I seek the door of enchantment
To slip through the slit in a daisy stem
And come out into sunlight,
To pass through the green door
And be lit up again
By the enchanting breath of ferns
The neat-toed leap of a deer
And to know again that this light –
The light that makes the moss
on the beech roots ignite
Into soft-shaped emeralds – is reality
Not the scorned territory of childhood
And that I am right to seek it
Though I never know where or how the transparency
Between the two worlds opens.
I can only search the waysides
Until one foot slides into a rabbit hole
And I find myself face to face
with the coral eye  of the pimpernel.
Such meetings are small epiphanies that pop up
And open as flowers do each day,
Million upon million breaking
Their sealed lips for the first time
To let us in.

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