PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The smell of pine ensnares my nose,

Circles my nostrils like a whirlpool of senses

Needles fall softly to the ground,

And once landing, rise up and continue their dance

The wind flows in from the south

Pauses, the bellows in from the west

As if the wind was lost and then

After checking the map, shot off confidently in the right direction

Among the pines stands a maple

That without shame shows its orange and red

Uses the colour as a means of letting the world know

That it will not leave without a picture to remember it by

Down by the lake the wind also plays

As the waves roll carelessly against the sand

Bringing in new members to join the beach

And then sneakily taking back some to keep the balance

Standing in this scene is my dog

Ignoring the beauty and barking at the wind