Wind Song Of The Forest.
I was walking today,
through a forest so deep,
listening to nature,
as I trod my feet..
And the song I could hear,
calling softly to me..
was the voice of the wind,
as it sang through the trees.
At first I had thought
it was water so near,
sounds just like a sweet
chuckling brook I could hear..
But it was only the breeze,
as it turned out to be..
Singing her song,
gently whispering to me..
Deep in this forest,
the air felt so cool,
though high up in the treetops,
the gilded sun rules..
She splatters sun shadows,
lace patterns on leaves...
In the damp woody scent,
of the air that I breathe..
Mighty trees standing tall,
so proud, reaching up high..
Their green canopied heads,
held erect to the sky..
And birds and grey squirrels,
making movements so fast,
as the wind song of the forest,
became sweet nature's laugh..
Time had no meaning,
as if it had stood still...
Saw the sun dipping slowly
down over the hills..
I left that cool forest,
having touched its terrain..
Yet I still hear that Wind Song,
softly calling my name...
Copyright Photographic Image/Poem Beverley Borresen. September 2011
through a forest so deep,
listening to nature,
as I trod my feet..
And the song I could hear,
calling softly to me..
was the voice of the wind,
as it sang through the trees.
At first I had thought
it was water so near,
sounds just like a sweet
chuckling brook I could hear..
But it was only the breeze,
as it turned out to be..
Singing her song,
gently whispering to me..
Deep in this forest,
the air felt so cool,
though high up in the treetops,
the gilded sun rules..
She splatters sun shadows,
lace patterns on leaves...
In the damp woody scent,
of the air that I breathe..
Mighty trees standing tall,
so proud, reaching up high..
Their green canopied heads,
held erect to the sky..
And birds and grey squirrels,
making movements so fast,
as the wind song of the forest,
became sweet nature's laugh..
Time had no meaning,
as if it had stood still...
Saw the sun dipping slowly
down over the hills..
I left that cool forest,
having touched its terrain..
Yet I still hear that Wind Song,
softly calling my name...
Copyright Photographic Image/Poem Beverley Borresen. September 2011