A Spring Bud Olive

A Poem by Mr.Boffin

Golden grottoes glisten in
groves woodland copse:
a spring bud
olive.

Nubile celestial nymphs
dance and play upon
the eve and stone
past stand and brake
and acres plenty.

woodlot willows and
wildflowers thriving.
wooded glens field
shy Dryad
in her Beauty.