The Grove: A Poem

As we made our way down the grassy driveway Jackie and Profth’s beautiful stilted hardwood abode came into view, for a few moments we stopped to see if any faces would peer over the veranda in greeting, after no such appearance we continued down the track to the lush gardenia graced as The Grove.

The first day was beautiful, the sun kissing our skin with its nurturing warmth and the grass – its many a soft blade– ticked our feet as we unpacked and made ready for the divine days to come. Although still moist in places the area had dried out considerably since the floods. Tents, large and small sporadically made a perimeter of coloured fabric among the trees, decorations hung and lights were strung in provision for the night. The once dormant fire circle was awakened with fresh wooden fuel for its hungry flame, soon attracting a circle of chairs bearing beautiful souls and smiles with tales for miles – hot tea to share and food prepared we sat around and spoke.

Voices voiced into the night, a kangaroo not once in sight; the day did break and some did wake while others’ sleep they did not fight.

Sanskrit was the morning shop, this language carved and formed atop, the mountains of the east and lo, its symbols drawn with graceful flow.

Some swam and screamed, others just leaned, on chairs and on the earth, with words and laughter here and after, friend-ships were given berth.

The flames went down to red hot coal, sheet tin was placed atop a knoll; of bricks and stones, I heard the moans, and cries of “Pizza!” through the air. The toppings were a blessing and laid on the dough thick dressing, the creations were diverse and lay in queue across the plate.

Murder was afoot in a small fictitious town, while players guessed the culprit – a great demon – with a frown. The accusations were on par, with judging witch in time gone far. With glee I sat and waited, and when proper words were baited I had lied my way into the say and found the good side slated.

The creek nearby was ripe for floating, down the water paddle boating. We saw the sights then stripped our tights to jump in with a squeal, the temperature was low and our goosebumps did quite grow but all the time we had felt very real.

The long weekend was full of dance, The Grove did fill us with romance, the trees shone smiles and all the while watched over with their loving stance. My gratitude to all that came, I really never feel the same – my bod and soul feel warm and happy, when I spend time at Profth and Jackie’s.

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