In forests deep
a snowy heap:
Two porcupines
lie sound asleepInside their den
they dream of when
they met –
and cuddle up againFred Porcupine
saw Abbeline
one evening in
the dusky shineShe saw him too
and loved the view
of Fred behind
his barbecueFred Porcupine
and Abbeline
sleep ‘til the day
of ValentineAt twelve o’clock
their eyes unlock
instinctively
they start to walkJust half awake
they leave and take
the wood-path
to the frozen lakeA singing hen
is heard and then
a pan pipe playing
fairy wrenThe sky’s aglow
with flakes of snow
they dance together
toe to toeAnd better yet:
a string quartet
of dogs play while
their table’s setThree chipmunks serve
a nice hors d’oeuvre:
dry roasted nuts
from their reserveA dizzy cow
takes quite a bow
“Hulloo!
I’ll take your orders now”“For cork you pine?
For cork and brine?
Be sure with knife
and fork you dine!”This kind advice
is followed twice
and they go
skating on the iceThey glide and sweep
they soar and leap
at midnight
they go back to sleepFred dreams of brine
while Abbeline
dreams of a
baby porcupineTheir dreams entwine
Their thoughts combine
and rise above
the woods of pineThe world revolves
The snow dissolves
A dreamy green
The wood involvesIn spring they wake
big eyes they make
remembering
the frozen lakeThe singing hen
the fairy wren
the cow –
they all come back againEach memory
appears to be
a vague and distant
reverieTheir dreams in turn
seem to return
like memories
in the trees and fernShe looks and winks
He sighs and blinks
each thinking what
the other thinksThey hug and kiss
and reminisce
and walk around
in endless blissA lovely rose
in meadows grows
the summer comes
the summer goesThe weeks go by
again they lie
asleep as wintertime
draws nighAs Abbeline
and Fred recline
so does their
baby porcupineBeneath the frost
they sleep untossed
There’s something there
that’s never lostLennard van Rij, illustration by Anja Brunt