My Sacred Spot
by Gail Denham

Dozens of roses border our low
meadow. They stand proud, kingly,
against a ring of bright aspen trees.

Yonder, inside the woods beyond, near
a tiny sun-speckled dense ground-cover
of trillium and fragrant lilies, the deer
sleep upon a soft carpet.

Fast moving water runs near this feast
for the eyes and heart. I share the deer’s
love of this free and open refuge. So many
quests for ideas and inspiration take place
in this very spot. I go there often.

Often, after my morning coffee, the call
comes to zip through morning chores, grab
pen, pad and second cuppa, and retreat here.

In this refuge, my husband fashioned
a small wood bench with tree stump stool.
Many stories and poems have ended their
search for the perfect word, the just-right
phrase, or a keen ending, at this spot.
This ground I hold sacred.


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