An enchanted forest. A traveller. A transformation. New perceptions.

I entered Stradivari's forest
not knowing a spruce from a fir
I spoke no Italian, I was a stranger.

Moonlight shone on the silvery forest
pine needles and leaves under my feet
the occasional mushroom like a door knob.

I don't play violin or read music,
but here on this enchanted hillside
I felt like the fiddler of the forest!

Andante! the words floated in the air
the notes of a new wondrous air
on an invisible stave.

I'll have this forest circled forever;
the inspiration of a lifetime
like Vivaldi's Four Seasons.