I Miss The Forest

Nature Poem by Chris Bunton

I miss the forest.
The deep silence,
Hiding sounds in wait.
The watching of life.

Breath being held
By the souls that dwell there
The trees speaking
In that sweet vibration

The squirrel can’t sit still
Too many chores to do.
Here, there, and everywhere
He goes to do his thing.

The wind spirit flows
Using leaves to sing.
Her instrument of love
For all to hear.

The blazing sun shines,
His heart down for life.
Drawing pictures through shade
On the forest floor.

Water nymphs dance
In the nearby creek
Sparkling flash sliding
Down to the deep blue lake.

The smell of the earth gnome
As he sits and watches.
Unmoving like a stone
In an ancient hillside.