Morning in the Woods

I am day dreaming about the woods in the mountains. My imagination keeps bringing me there, every time I have the chance to sit and think, or listen to the birds outside, or journal for more than a few minutes. Perhaps in these days of isolation and orders to stay home, I feel the extra need to commune with nature on cool days that rush with refreshment in the mountain woods. Even if only in my imagination or memory. It all provokes me to write rather long, rambling prose and sometimes poems, and here a poem emerged. So, until I can get there in person, I shall re-imagine the presence of the woods through poem.

Morning in the Woods

Dawn breaking through tall, slender trees
A soft awakening through woods, a breeze
Subtle and soothing. A quiet nature waking,
Light diffused through limbs and leaves shaking
As birds flit to and fro, a chirp and call
Announcing the waking of these woods to all.
Mossy, cool, and calm, amidst the bird's dash and spirit,
A groggy hedgehog may choose not to hear it
But the waterfall answers with a refreshing spray,
A wakefulness rises in the mist, a new day.
While the woods awaken, a low, soft song is lofty
Not just of birds, but of the wood elves stepping softly,
By ancient paths these woods have held song
Spanning myths and stories as the mist is long.