Whose Woods Are These

Whose Woods Are These* An Emerald Necklace wends through Boston town as children we would roam unsupervised go catching frogs and other things we’d found beware the turtles – they were supersized. The dogs we had were large and not too smart so they would play with creatures live or dead return with stink to make the skunks depart chase off the pond-bound ducks and steal their bread. While we of tender years and lacking sense would splash along the minnow dotted shore then dine beneath the berry bushes dense as lazy dogs succumbed to summer snore. Then home – across the tarmac heated soft to sit upon a stoop at sunset’s fall to watch a stoic moon’s slow climb aloft awaiting silent streetlights curfew call. ©1/7/2018 *Robert Frost – Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening Into the woods Poetry Contest Silent One - sponsor