nature poetry
An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
Where the woods breathe.
The woods don't shout like cities do, they speak in hush and hum, in leaf-tongue whispers overhead, in the beat of beetle drums. Sunlight spills in broken gold, caught on every seam, stitching shadows to the ground like pieces of a dream. The trees stand tall as ancient thought, their roots curled. Their branches writing quiet maps of an older, softer world. A breeze turns pages in the ferns, the moss remembers rain, and somewhere far, a wood thrush calls a silver, bending strain. If you walk slow, the forest knows. It matches breath for breath,lends you its calm, unknots your chest,and steals your hurrys weight. for in the woods,time loosebs up,becomes a drifting thing. Just light and bark and steady heart and everything listening. and when you leave, a part remains, tied to root and hood. a small, green pulse you carry home: the quiet of the woods.
By Siatola Weaver9 days ago in Poets
Dear Groundhogs...
Note: some of you do not celebrate Groundhog Day (every February 2nd). You might be familiar with Candlemas Day (European inspiration for the event). If the groundhog in question sees its shadow on a sunny day, six more weeks of winter; if not, an early spring. And our rodents - starting with Willy and Pete (there are others) - have different prognostications above and below our borders. Nice.
By Kendall Defoe 10 days ago in Poets
