“nature setting where somebody sits atop a ledge edge and looks down to a fiels of ferns and ladyslippers”

Above the leafy hush I sit,  
My feet just brushing air—  
A granite ledge, a gentle pit  
Of sky and sun laid bare.  
The world rolls out in greenest script  
Where earth and stories blend;  
Below the crag, the ferns have tipped  
Their secrets to the wind.

They flicker silver, stirred by noon,  
And shimmer, wild and deep,  
A painter’s brush, a summer tune,  
Where ancient shadows sleep.  
The lady’s-slippers, pink and shy,  
In slippers soft as dew,  
Are tucked in clusters, low and sly,  
Beneath the emerald view.

I watch the breeze perform its art,  
A ruffling ballet sweep—  
The ferns bow low, their feathered hearts  
Adrift in silence deep.  
No sound but thrush-note threading through  
This quilt of green and gold,  
No hurry here—the sky’s pale blue  
A canopy of old.

So let me linger, edge of stone,  
Above this plush expanse—  
Where quiet keeps my soul alone,  
And longing turns to chance.  
To feel both small and fully grand,  
With earth’s soft song unfurled—  
As lady’s-slippers gently stand  
With ferns beneath my world.

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