scribbler
Sep 29, 2021

AUTUMN STROLL

I walk these woods this autumn day
then come upon a dim game trail
and since it goes along my way
I let its direction prevail
and add my prints to those of deer

The path traverses a hillside
through mixed hardwoods of middling age
where squirrels play and owls abide
here on this deep sylvan stage
beneath a sky that's cool and clear.

On this day ghosts accompany me;
unseen, unheard but they are there.
they's in my memories you see
with all the times we used to share.
...These old friends bring me little fear.

Old friends are less now than those dead,
the price that's paid for growing old
so I walk these painted woods instead
thinking about past tales I've often told
to friends and family I hold dear.

I turn down hill to a small stream
then sit and listen to it sing.
How to these wood must I seem
as I hum and soak in everything.
all I see or smell or hear?

A misbeat is noted in old heart
but I pay it little heed;
A couple misses then restart
then back to the steadiness I need.
"Not Yet...." whispers one ghost near....

About This Poem

Style/Type: Structured: Western

Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: South Carolina, United States, USA

Favorite Poets: Frost

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Comments

Geezer

I felt the need to get out in the woods while reading this. Alas, the closest that I will get, is the backyard patio. Even this is good and I can sit as long as I like, with the comforts of home just a few steps away. I felt the breeze and heard the calls of the crows early this morning. Looks like everyone knows that the change of season is here. This helps to bring it into focus.
One thing I see that begs the question. Did you mean to say [pained] woods? I kind of think you meant [painted]. ~ Geez.
.

S

I usually try to keep homebound people in mind when I do a sylvan write. And you are right it should be painted not pained