Thunder
in the
distance.
Lighting
dancing,
edging
dark clouds.
Soft rain
thru the
pines.
Boughs dripping
in the pond.
Birds sounding
bird talk.
Many languages
to be
heard.
Frogs
in the pond
announcing
their attendance.
Walking along
the path,
they take no
notice of
my
intrusion.
The
planet is theirs.
I’m
just
passing through.
- Author: John Prophet (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: May 7th, 2018 06:49
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: Lorna
Comments2
Hi JGCollins.
I am a rambler and I belong to a walking group.
This poem speaks to me. There is nothing more therapeutic than a walk in tbe woods to relieve the stress of modern life and its effects.
Thank you
Keep writing
FineB
Hi FB,
Thank you for reading my work and your generous comment.
Happy Birthday
JG
A real pleasure of a read JG
Thank you, I appreciate that.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.