Beverly Voldseth, « Spring », Le jardin ouvrier, Amiens, 2002, pp. 14-15.
Tiny cases of minute pebbles hold the caddis fly
Just under the water inch long black strings clin to a rock
On a decaying half buried branch the scarlet cup waits for dew
It is here the fairies come when we with our big rubber boots
Clump our way back up the hill full of wonder
At what happens when light and water
Fling themselves over the land