In a magic garden
Of twisted perspectives,
Where in mirrors of imagination
One could perceive improbable miracles

Where most secret reveries
Will be fulfilled in no time with scrupulousness
Of hangman, executing dispassionately
Succeeding verdict

Amidst ravishing smells
Of flower carpets woven from orchids
And wheedling trills of sky larks and birds of paradise
Lived one little manure beetle

Whose life's the most important aim
In the face of world's indescribable beauty
Was that his ball
Of manure to be perfectly rounded.

KLARYSA T. STATERSON
Central Islip, N.Y.
02/13/1998

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