The tangled under-story dwells
above dark earth, the ground's foundation:
listen to the tale it tells
while the wind's damp susurration
passes by on raven's wings.
All around us voices sing
of elder days, when on this ground
no human footprint could be found.
The under-story still remembers
life alone beneath the tress
where forest gods might bend their knees
and coax new shoots from winter's embers.
Ready always with the flame
of spring they leap to life again.

The birds returning to their
Nest , the little ones under
The night sky , the stars shimmering
Like a wiggly worm , mom looking
At the young , Tired unable
To move , she cries and pebble
In the nest , falls below on
The ground , all burnt upon
The soil dead , the pain
The animals , no land to live in
No food to eat , god save us
From the inhumane kind , be kind to us.

Scent of springtime wafts around
the road's slow curve as it nears town,
passing through low swampy ground
where the rills are running down
from the forest, deep and drear,
fog enclosing hopes and fears
for the future. Spring will come,
when winter hibernation's run
will end in waking. Life again
will rise from loamy fecund soil,
will prise from time by endless toil
a season's freedom from its chain.
The early snows have come and gone
Wet fields await the deer and fawn.

Ferns turned Bronze and Gold,

Oak holding on to their leaves,

Brambles becoming tired,

Goldcrests flit in the heights of the Pines,

Low sun blazing, blinding,
 
Illuminated bark of the Birch,

Winter of the woods.

Whoseforest

flames hail,
so They wail
in Whoseforest.

the smog of it all,
has the system dull
in Whoseforest.

wails of help resound,
but are Their voices really found?

a peasant man’s dime too little,
a wealthy man’s dime too many.
                                 lackthereof
the kings lounge
as scorn rages
and rages
and rages
in Whoseforest.

the peasants beg,
“your majesty!
choking up
our lungs,
Their lungs,
Her lungs.
this tragedy
is one of ours
of yours
deploy a strategy
have you not?”

the kings sit
with the wealthy
sipping tea
eyes lit
with lax smiles.

but just like Them,
their voices go
unfound.

peasant, wealthy, royalty
all born and bred
of the same ancestry
brothers cry,
but brothers stray

They too,
both and bred
of their ancestry
but descendants soon
fall flat

mother nature now speaks,
“for we are all born and bred
of the same hearth
should it not be our earth
to love and share?”
She,too, wails
for Whoseforest.

so tell me now,
whose forest?

Go north,
into Frost’s domain.
Comparing your soul,
and walk the same path.
Stomp the ground,
to make it real.
Walk in the wood,
in the grass and snow.
Follow the steps,
learned from the past.
Diverge in the thicket,
and follow your heart.

How did you do it?
Will I have to die to?

A new year
A new beginning
It starts with fire.
Fire
That's all you see.
I see my house burning
In front of my eyes
Ripping away piece by piece
Diminishing into the flames.
I see my friends getting hurt
Smoke suffocting them.
They don't know what to do
They can't run or hide.
I hear my family crying;
Our home is fading
We have no where to go.
For you it's just trees.
For me it's home.
It's my food.
It's my living.
Everything is taken away from me
Yet you cry for your loss.
My entire Species is going extinct.
One by one they burn
Along with their house
they vanish into the flames.
This is too painful for me.
I have nothing to cling onto
I have no family to call.
I'm just a homeless runt.

I was withdrawn,
Sullen,
Angry,
Then to my forest edge you came one day,
Sailing in on a
Bed of clouds
With a rainbow smile.
Although I tried to climb the trees,
Your bed of clouds was too high,
And you didn’t dare go down into the forest,
For fear your cloud would break.
The sweet pang I felt as I watched your
Rainbow smile ascend on your bed of clouds
Would not be soon forgotten.
But as I awake from my dream,
Your memory fades
As the wisp of a cloud.