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Poetry: Walking in the woods

• 1 of 91

  by Jeff Vidrine

  Late afternoon with shadows changing
  as the sun by degrees lowers its angle.
  I emerge from the path through a brier tangle.
  Squirrels

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• 2 of 91

  by Jennifer Keeling

  I squint at the sunlight,
  Dappled through the trees
  I smile at the smell,
  Of the fresh, brand new green leaves.
  A pitter-pattering

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• 3 of 91

  by Louise Peterken

  This is the Wiccans' wood:
  Beneath the Witch Hazel's throes
  The baubled Bluebell grows;
  Adorned with Spiders' gossamer nets
  That

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• 4 of 91

  by Jared Garrett

  It was early evening
  on the autumn day that
  while out walking my dog
  I met the Ghost of Monchat

  The sun had just lowered
  neath

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• 5 of 91

  by Darian Peters

  Walking in the woods,
  A step beyond,
  That tantalizing threshold,
  That guards our minds from the unseen.

  Walking in the woods,
  No

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Poetry: Walking in the woods