The Woods

Foot steps trudge through early spring mud,
The smell of garlic from youngling leaf enticing the nose,
As the odd speck of yellow elude to new beauty in dull spring rain,
Hiding amongst choking woodland undergrowth,
Or behind sturdy oak, holding up the once green canopy that now scatters across the woodland ground.

These feel like my woods, and though they've been seen by many eyes,
And are home to many creature,
They remain mine,
Captured by my hearts desire,

To wander and explore their depths,
To listen to the rustling leaves and chirping birds,
To watch the gentle dance of sunbeams through the branches,
And feel the earth beneath my feet,
These woods are my sanctuary,
A place of peace and solace,
Where I can forget the troubles of the world,
And lose myself in nature's embrace.

So let me walk these paths,
And breathe in the scent of spring,
For in these woods I find my freedom,
And the joy that it brings.