I often find
The fox’s bark
Fills my mind.
How fast the light
Fades in woodland glades
And becomes the dark
Of suffocating night.
In the park
Where children play
His cold, sharp bark
Seems to say
You spend your day
In the sun
But the night
Blots out light
And your day
Is done.
(The final stanza is very long compared to the first 2 and I am not sure how the poem hangs together. Would welcome the views of my readers. Thanks. Kevin).
In the wood
My dog chased
A squirrel.
No thought of good
Or bad
Had he,
For he was free
Of morality.
In my mind
I often find,
Squirreled away
A thought
I ought
Not to think
Of play
With prey.
On 3 December, I published this poem, https://kmorrispoet.com/2022/12/03/i-passed-a-log/. Below is a slightly reworked version of my composition entitled A Fallen Tree:
A fallen tree
Spoke to me
On a
December day.
Once it stood
In ancient wood.
Now I
Pass by
As December grows colder
And I ever older.
Walking through fallen leaves
In the familiar churchyard
The poet sees
The hard
Fact that all
Leaves fall.
Leaves turn brown
‘Ere they fall
To waiting ground.
I heard
A bird’s
Alarm call.
Autumn will become
Winter. The sun
Will burn out.
Some still shout
Of human progress
While leaves fall.
5 degrees.
Wet trees
Drip yesterday’s rain.
The autumn came
Bringing acorns
And precious rain
To woodland lawns.
On hearing birdsong
I am glad
That I am here
To hear
Their sad, glad song.
We die
And our love
Dies with us.
No, it lives on
When we are gone
In those we love.
And the birds
Sing on
With no care
For where
We have gone.
Soon the autumn moon
Will come
And autumn’s milder face
Will replace
The boiling summer sun.
Yet the poet sees
Autumn’s Fallen leaves
Broiled by summer’s sun
Long ‘Ere autumn
Is due to come.
On my walks
I often find
That inner talk
Distracts my mind.
Then, the breeze
Rustles Autumn leaves
Reminding me
Of eternity.
Dry leaves hang
On waiting trees.
The dead litter
The cracked ground.
Our bitter
Harvest of drought.
K Morris - Poet 