PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Wrapped in a woolen vest

I walk along the stream.

I donned my warmest boots, no less,

To explore this winter dream.

Snow blankets the forest floor

But the sun is bright in the sky.

I travel this soggy corridor 

No reason, no purpose, no why.

Limbs, they pop, snap, and creak.

My eyes glance up to see

The sun is causing their load to leak;

What was frozen now drips on me.

There in the bend a young doe deer

Has become curious of what I am.

She bolts and runs, no doubt in fear,

Though woolen, I am no lamb.

My legs grow tired slipping, sliding

As I climb an Icy knoll

There I spy, in a broad oak, hiding,

A squirrel in the edge of its hole.

The fragrance of pine is in the air

Heavy, needled branches break.

Down the next hill I must take care

So not to slide into the lake.

My soul companion has grown long

And crossed in front of me.

It's time that I should go back home

And let this beauty be.