Original poems II

WOODS
Walking through the woods,
nothing to hear but the soft
whisper of the wind in the valleys

the cold bark of black trees
rough and illuminated
by the moonlight

the crack of ice and the
movement of animals
deep, deep in the dark forest

WORM GUTS
The smell of pond water
and worms, fish and dirt
the sound  of the wind, but not that of the winter,
a warmer and softer wind, which
smelled sweet like the woods.

The pointless throwing of a line
maybe? just curious little
sunfish, but over there
by the spring, under the pine
thats where the bass hide

out on the boats, to the island.
just going along, hoping for something
you knew you would have to through back in the
end, but who cares
it was the summertime.

WHY IN THE NAUTRE
I was walking in the hills
and I asked the thyme why it smelled the way it did
like summer games and picnic sunsets
the thyme all looked at me and
laughed

I was walking through the woods
and asked the Rover tree why is sounded the way it did
dry and loud like cracking bones
the Rover tree looked at me and
laughed

I was walking in the stream
and asked it why it felt the way it did on my feet
like clean mud and warm ice
the stream looked up at me and
laughed

I was walking through the grass
and through the trees
and through the rain
and the thunder
and asked someone why these things are the way they are
and it
told me.