Much more do I prefer the sweet singing of birds in the woods and quaint bluebells in their hoods…
Hawthorn's Wood
T’is dawn
And here I stand on this hill
The world stretched out below me.
I hear its wakenings still
But those dull murmurings hold naught for me,
Rather intrude upon quiet musings.
Read more: Hawthorn's Wood
Author's note: My great uncle Eugene’s middle name was Hawthorn. I was taken with it and wove it into a poem because he loved to wander the woods, as do I.
Posts
1 comments:
Just popped by to say, hi. Hope your book is doing well.
Post a Comment
Please give your feedback. Comments are appreciated!