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The Lonely Woods
As I walk this lonely wood,
With beauty's flourish at every turn,
I contemplate the sounds I hear,
Listening with the strength of both ears.
A little creek's gurgle off to my right,
A songbird's warble, clear and light.
The rustle of leaves as a wind drifts past,
A bit of swaying and buzzing in a patch of grass.
As I walk this lonely wood,
With beauty's flourish at every turn,
I contemplate the scents I smell,
The fragrances that say the world is well.
The sweet, bright smell of a forest flower's petals.
The richer smell of a pine tree's dark needles.
An acorn's hint of spice brought by a stirring of wind,
The dewy meadow's tang in a far off meadow's fields.
As I walk this lonely wood,
With beauty's flourish at every turn,
I contemplate the sights I see,
Nature's perfection all around.
A wild flower's purest ivory hue,
The bright, spring-green leaves all outlined by blue.
The deep brown of moist peat beneath my feet,
The colors of berries, nuts, flowers in perfect optical harmony.
As I walk this lonely wood,
I think I'd linger if I could.
But the world still awaits, modern beauties untold,
All of them silver, the natural ones, gold.
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