The Woods

I love the quiet reverent way
that straight ribbons of sunlight
hang from the faintly rustling leaves above me
when I walk through the woods.

I love the gurgling sound of a narrow brook
that slurps and splashes like a little boy
who doesn't know or care that he will someday
be a dignified and humorless river.

I love the playful sneaky breezes
that tease with delicate perfumes I must close my eyes to smell.
I love to feel alone and watch a beaver being business-like
and then turn and see a striped chipmunk watching me.

I love to leave the path
and find a meadow no one else has seen
where I can sit and chew on a blade of grass
while I think about things.

Ross Olson

Send comments to me at ross{at}rossolson.org

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