As I put my foot one in front of the other
I look at the ground all muddy and grey
The leaves of the bluebells trodden and duller
The blue petals drooping as if they pray.
The trees shiver in the wind,
Raindrops form a spray
As the leaves open widely
To catch the sun's rays.
I lift up my eyes
I see glistening light
The shade lets the flies
Circle endlessly in my sight.
A walk in the woods
Makes my muscles relax
Until my legs stumble
As I trip over tracks.
My balance restored
My hope regained.
My journey reformed
My happiness remains.
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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
I squint at the sunlight,
Dappled through the trees
I smile at the smell,
Of the fresh, brand new green leaves.
A pitter-pattering
This is the Wiccans' wood:
Beneath the Witch Hazel's throes
The baubled Bluebell grows;
Adorned with Spiders' gossamer nets
That
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
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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