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Tales of the North Woods
There is a tongue, not young, not old,
in which the north woods’ tales are told;
of wild rivers running and trees standing tall,
of eagles that soar and loons that call.
I hear it on the high ridge line
when zephyrs whisper in the pine,
and aspen leaves turn to and fro
as summer breezes gently blow.
I hear it by the winding trail
as waters wander through the dale.
I hear it in the solemn hush
as the deer steps from the brush.
I hear it in the clamoring choir
as the wild geese climb yet higher.
I hear it speaking to my soul
as my fire burns down to coal.
When the worries of the day
shade my world in drear and grey,
I listen for the soothing tones
of the soft wind in the trees
and the water on the stones.
:)
its like he first time I went out in a kayak
there was a nice sway to the words, they fell in beats like the slow rock of a kayak in movement
took me to my happy place
Much Love
Ashley
Truly wonderful
I have often sat and thought
Of such places that you sought
And in poems such as yours
Write about such streams and moors..
You have taken this idea
Which was born inside your heart
And have made it very clear
For my heart to understand..
So I show apreciation
And a word of aspiration
For your work I do admire
And your words create a fire..
Willow
This is one of the very best
This is one of the very best poems I have read on this site. To me this is true poetry, and I loved every word. Thank you for posting it on here . :-) x