The sound of the dense forest standing in my ear,
The smell of green beginnings, of a new frontier.
Stepping over a senior log rotting on a timbered floor,
Gathering up pines cones, falling from branches that soar.
The life of a hiker wandering the wilderness without cause,
Angels of bark, covering wooden souls standing to applause.
The forest, where living is nonpareil and dying follows nature's laws.
© 2012 by Yorktown Disciple
All rights reserved
Poetizing around the world
Poetry, warm, furry, and hops right out at you.
Nature's Laws - Yorktown Disciple