Pine Wood

 

Leaving the path

I walk into the woods.

Sit on a fallen branch 

within a circle of

pine trees, twigs, sticks, 

rotting wood, 

pine needles and 

fallen leaves,

layer upon layer,

composted.

A decay that 

nourishes these 

silent giants 

whose spongy 

trunks soar to

reach the light

high above.

There is shelter

from the wind,

but beneath 

the evergreen canopy,

the silence is total,

like death, yet 

it calls me

to listen,

to strive

for the

light.

 

6 Comments

  1. You words took me into those woods. I am very familiar with the feeling you express along with the wonderful fragrance of the forest floor.

    Like

  2. Dearest Teri,
    Wonderful you dropped by, and your poem speaks to my heart… Nothing quite like the silence of the wood and the aroma of those fallen pine needles on a spongy bed underfoot..
    Loved your poem and image Teri…
    Hope you are well, and forgive my lateness in replying..
    I guess I wandered into the depths of my own deep garden for a while… As I sorted out the fallen leaves that had still yet to fall from my inner tree..
    Much love to you and thank you for your most welcome visit..
    Hugs your way ❤
    Sue 💖🙏

    Like

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