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
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