The Forest Napper

He lay in the woods, buried in the grass
Breathing the air of forest fragrances
His lair, his domain, his life and style
The woodland his fairy inheritances

Lost in a garden of photographic imagination
Kibitzing with lichens and molds
Settling into a bed of wild green grasses
With funguses growing in his folds

He tried to rise with a foot in the ground
A shoulder and elbow submerged
With a head of green grasses abound
His river water kidneys were purged

Yet winter came and froze up his eyes
No longer glistening with a tear
He yanked on his arm and a leg
And finally sat up on his rear

But part of the woods he shall always be
And he turned over and lay back down
Sinking in past his shoulder again
Once again at peace with the ground

Barbara Blackcinder


About Barbara Blackcinder

I am a poet/writer with a need for words. There are so many out there that I haven't used yet. They define all reality and mine when you read those from me.
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One Response to The Forest Napper

  1. Pingback: A Spiritual Practice | My Epic Odyssey to Heal my Body-Mind-Spirit

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