A red ball of a sun
sent golden shafts
through the canopy
of ancient oaks; their
gnarled roots
showed above the earth
like a testimony
of their mighty strength.

At the very centre
of a ring of toadstools;
that grew in this clearing,
she stood alone in a gown
of flowing gossamer.

Soon he would arrive
and carry her
to the secrecy
of the long grassses.
His cloak would softly blanket
their lovers bed
as only a voyeur skylark
would hover and witness
a new creation
on the grasslands
of Tranquility.

Ian Bowen

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-grasslands-of-tranquility/