of Cassels’ Palladian house, set off
by grounded Pegasus offering the lake,
lie smaller beauties.
Sweet grass sings in morning mist,
the eye of a rigged web cries rain,
a fat brown spider sees all.
He throws his silks from fuschia bush
to burnished tree trunk, while we,
the visitors let our eyes be snagged
by ancient statuary, the gaudy grandeur
of black and gilded metal gates,
while little treasures are hidden in plain sight.
Seek out the jewelled dragonfly,
flashing her semaphore of lush blue light.
Sidestep berry-stained bird scat
splattered on the dirt path, walk on past
a pyramid of fallen feathers, from
perhaps a red grouse,
note their intricate weave and sheen
illuminated in the play of light between
the ancient trees. Be thankful for this bounty.
By Jean O’Brien