Where birds chirp and the breeze
Blows warm against my skin
Here song replaces silence
Here the darkness has yet to reach
Melancholy moods await back
Where four walls meet to form home
Taunting me with the elusiveness
Of words lost and floating
In a jangle of thoughts inside my head
Fleetingly brushing against my mind
Then fleeing to the four corners
Where I dare not poke too deep
For fear of what might spill over onto the page
Words that flow free as this river that I envy
the majesty and the mist
Would that I could remain here forever
As fixed as a boulder
With pencil and ink and paper
Endlessly dreaming and writing the day away.
Poet’s Notes: This is how I see the woods in which I wander, the places that call to me so much I never want to leave. The first draft of the poem was written while seated on a moss covered log, watching the sun just beginning to go down. It’s a place to which I often go, a place I hope will never be spoiled by buildings and people, loud noise, and my ever-growing town.
Editor's Note: I love the meta aspect of this poem as well as how the judicious use of punctuation creates a sense of fragmentation that strengthens the poetic conceit.