Woodland Stories
How joyous is a woodland walk;
Filtered sunlight peppers down.
Silent leaves begin to talk;
They’ve such a lovely sound.
Breezy fingers rippling through,
The hair upon my head;
Their own stories, they tell too;
If there down, you bed.
Every living being, therein;
Tells stories of their own.
Listen carefully my friend;
Their magic you’ll soon know.
They’re not to be repeated; secrets of the woods.
Repetition is not needed; just savor them for good.
Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2018
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment