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SLachinaPoems
In the deep woods near, The trees are poets; They write their rustling Lines against a paper sky -- Invited to their mystic house I am brought to life, Embraced and entwined Like a prodigal child Forgiven everything -- The forest floor is cool and still Yet below, the earth is humming Sweet-scented and loamy Pulling at some memory that Beats ancient in me -- Such tempo'd spells sing Among the ferns here: Beckoning
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Oct 25, 2020
Oct 25, 2020 at 8:24 AM UTC
In the deep woods near
In the deep woods near, The trees are poets; They write their rustling Lines against a paper sky -- Invited to their mystic house I am brought to life, Embraced and entwined Like a prodigal child Forgiven everything -- The forest floor is cool and still Yet below, the earth is humming Sweet-scented and loamy Pulling at some memory that Beats ancient in me -- Such tempo'd spells sing Among the ferns here: Beckoning
Written by
SLachina
F/Cleveland
Oct 25, 2020
Oct 25, 2020 at 8:24 AM UTC
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