There are splendid sunrises
and sweeping morning mists.
The air is clear,
and the babbling brook is clean,
In my woods.
In Autumn’s glory,
leaves of yellow and gold,
fall to the forest floor,
like precious gems,
In my woods.
The scornful chatter of squirrels,
and curious approach of
Inquisitive chipmunks provide
for hours entertainment,
in my woods.
The hawk and the owl hunt the sky,
while the hunter and four legged
predator hunt the land,
in my woods.
The hunted know the hunter,
as the hunter knows them,.
The deer is taken,
and the older weary buck
is finally slain or succumbed to old age,
in my woods.
,
The wind carries the murmurs
of woodsman past, through
the whispering boughs of pine,
In my woods.
The sun is now on a different horizon.
crimson red, yellow and gold,
bidding a tribute to a glorious day
time is timeless,
in my woods.
,
Here I have lived better
learned skills, responsibility,
determination, and respect for
nature & life,
in my woods.
Should years from now
you catch a whispered murmur
as the wind blows though the pine,
it is only the spirit of us souls
here before you,
who bide you well and good fortune
In my woods.
For now my friend,
come and sit at our campfire,
and share with us your tales
and of adventures to come,
In my woods.
