Poem #15


We kick through the woods

Deep in the trees refusal

We sleep until noon


These old trees don’t mind

They will give nothing away

They keep our secrets


We breathe in and out

We hold the words on our tongues

They hold out voices


And our shoes are damp

We have slogged through soggy fields

We have held our own


The mice aren’t talking

They have business to attend

They make very good friends


The finches gossip

They sing from their hidden posts

They will write new poems


A sunny chill day

Human shadows blend flora

We will feed the trees


Wind defines the hills

It comes fast down the gullies

Like a smile on lips


Our footprints will fade

No one will know we came here

Spiders build their webs


And our path will fade

Our memories of this place

Will be held tightly

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