My Quiet Woods

From the darkness an owl hoots a comfortable cry.
Tiny strides and squeaks of mice
Assures me life is about.

Croaks from tree frogs, snorts from the deer
All strange and delightful sounds.
Although sometime peculiar their melody-refreshing.

The high pitched screech of the vixen
Compliments the humming and clicking of cicada.
Giving balance to the ballad.

Branches snap whilst they crackle in brush,
Accompanying Picidaes' strident knock.
Rhythmic percussion.

Above emanates the chirping of slight fowl
Composition far and wide
In my quiet woods-harmony.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem