PoetryMine Poetry Mine

It’s a time of green grass and colorful flowers,
a time of growth, renewal, and new life born.
Winter’s snow melts under warm Spring showers,
disregarding their spray I hike for hours,
my mind relaxed, free from all thoughts forlorn,
on the trail by the lake in the wood.

To my right, the narrow strip of new and tender lawn
is dotted with wild blooms of mixed vivid hues,
and just beyond, the crystal lake mirrors the light of dawn.
I wave at a couple engaged in a chess match, she moved a pawn,
both are sprawled on a blanket with kicked off shoes,
near the trail by the lake in the wood.

The drizzle has stopped now and I continue on my way,
tying the arms of my flimsy jacket around the waist,
as the sun emerges from behind clouds in warm display.
I hike less than 1000 feet more, and marvel at my lucky day,
as I spot 4 new ducklings behind their mother, with one displaced,
and watch gleefully from the trail by the lake in the wood.

I hear a soft rustle in my left ear, and quickly turn my head
to pick up the sound on the woodsy side of the trail.
There among mighty oaks, mature pines, and a few others instead,
there where Spring seedlings of trees, plants, and flowers are spread,
I see that the gentle noise was made by Spring bunnies, newborns still frail,
to my left of the trail by the lake in the wood.

I amble on leisurely, enjoying the untold wonders of nature,
in the season of new birth and fresh hope, I enjoy the fact of Spring.
The wood and lake are teaming with life, and I savor the adventure,
at least for this day in every way, my troubles have met their closure.
Worm in her beak, a mother robin flies by, hungry babies await her wing
above the trail in the lake by the wood.

It’s easy to understand I’m in no hurry as I fully circle the blue lake.
A family of four frogs hop in fresh grass, I see a deer with her fawn,
loveless for reptiles, I manage to smile at a mother and baby garden snake.
A squirrel scurries up a green tree, fresh nuts her young to partake,
and I continue to marvel at nature, and the plan God has drawn,
on and about the trail by the lake in the wood.

It’s often said all good things must come to an end,
and the pleasures of my visit must halt for this day,
so reluctantly I turn for home and responsibilities there to attend.
But Spring lasts three months, there’s plenty of time here yet to spend,
and tomorrow will find me again amazed, when I eagerly make my way
to the trail by the lake in the wood.

© Copyright 2007 and beyond
PoetryMine.Com – All rights reserved
- – - – - – - – - – -
POET’S NOTE: The word “wood” rather than “woods” is correctly used in this poem. One of the definitions of “wood” in the dictionary is, verbatim, “A dense growth of trees usually greater in extent than a grove and smaller than a forest”. I chose “wood” because it provides a better meter/rhythm in the refrain of the poem. – Eugene N. Wells