as I sit here –
deep in the forest, bathed in shadow,
watching the leaves fall,
tell me, why does the earth end in such a pretty display?
I holler to the trees,
they answer with a rustle
I bury my hands in the earth,
inhale the sweet fumes of rotting leaves
I play in the creeks
I bathe myself in her beauty
I am in love with her,
the forest, my lover,
goddess of this place
Posted in response to the challenge Autumn '24: Writing.
winter's coming on fast-
better chop enough wood.
pluck the last fruits of the harvest-
then say goodnight to the garden,
resting under a blanket of leaves and love.
In the vet's office.
My bunny, sedated.
They are coming soon with the second shot.
She had a good life. I hope she finds peace.
I'm going to miss her so much.
I love you, Whisper. I'm sorry.
Do you think people 100 years ago, in rural Vermont, looked up at the sky, at the milky way, the moon and all the stars? Do you think they marveled at them, and taught their children the constellations?
Comments
UGH, this is so gut-wrenchingly good. The shortness of the poem keeps from how beautifully you worded your thoughts. This perfectly describes how I also connect to nature and almost gives notes of childhood wonder (at least that's what I gained.) The fourth stanza is my favorite; even in the dying leaves, there is sweetness. Wonderful job!
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