I love to walk in the early morning when all is quiet and surreal, when the world
is waking up and the silence is loud with bird calls and the scurry of squirrels. I
always take the same path from my home, past ivy draped dwellings where behind
ornate doors people are nestled safe. At the forest entrance, I stop and listen deep,
the hush beckons to me, calls me forward and I take my first step into tranquility.
Oh, nature so sweet and raw, it wraps around me, taking my thoughts high up
into the tangled branches of ancient trees. The green canopy is changing as Autumn
caresses the leaves and the sun is turning each one into stained glass visions of
orange, red and burgundy, each is beautifully unique. I gather many to press in
a book . . . I take up my pen and let the words drip . . .
twirling and swirling
under my feet they all lay-
beautiful in death
September 20, 2013
Submitted into the Morning Contest, A Poet Destroyer