Nemophilist

Ne*moph”i*list : One who is fond of forest or forest scenery; a haunter of the woods.

The towering forest trees sway perfectly in time

With the gentle whispering  breeze so modest and refined.

I stand before the woody gates of birch, oak and pine

Before them I plead my case that I may enter in and hide.

The world outside is awful busy and dangerously chaotic

But inside the forest walls the calamity turns to quiet.

Beyond my steps a mossy trail lined with laurel and ferns

leads me to a trickling creek singing about the earth.

I perch myself on a rock and look out to see

The glittery sunlight shimmers through the wildly clapping leaves.

Pinecones and acorns drop to maintain consistency –

a steady rhythm in the forest between the brook, the birds and the breeze.

A little fox trots along, he pays me no mind

He poised himself on a hollow log, then moves on for the sake of time.

The nightingale sings to me a soulful lullaby

and shortly after I’m asleep without a batting eye.

My head lays heavy on the ground and sinks into the moss

The wind sweeps up some fallen leaves and blankets my sleepy bod.

Funny mushrooms now emerge, they’ve come to greet the moon

They form a ring around me, an arena for fairies, snails, and toads, too!

In the night there are different animals that now enter the scene;

raccoons, moths, and rabbits all agree that the Owl is king.

The evening rustles on, I sleep through the calamity

But soon with the waking dawn, my woodland palace I must leave.