Mayapple · M.D. Garage

Mayapple’s Slow Dance

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by Rebecca Wohlever

Beckoned by lingering sun and the
footsteps of children,
Soft green parisoles ease their way through the fallen and fading love letters of autumn.
Turning slowly as they enter the forest dance floor,
chartreuse skirts unfurling,
stories of a long winter, once tucked into their folds, now exhale and surrender to warmth.

The fruit will swell and ripen in late summer.
Mothers will warn against eating the tempting egg-shaped treasures that dangle only from the two-leaved plants.

Until then, they are a tropical floor canopy, where young children pretend with toy soldiers and dolls.

Until then, a father leads his daughter past their lazy green lobes to the mossy banks of a fishing hole, where bluegill look up from their underwater world to waving streaks of sunshine.

A forest song leaves its words in an ear too young to understand and an ear too old to listen.

Lyrics are deer hooves sinking into soft spring ground,

Rootlets reaching their tender anchors into the mycelium,

Green-robed goddesses spinning into existence.

Melody is every winter dream that became a wildflower.

Rhythm is your own beating heart.

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Traveling Stanzas community arts projects bring poetry to people’s everyday lives through innovative methods and digital platforms.