Treasure Island

hap rochelle


Forest Glade


The forest glade lightens
misty grey morning
ere the sun
burns off the dewy gloom.

Deer browse small shrubs
in the clearing,
sating their hunger
before retiring for the day.

Woodpecker taps away,
only sound in the early stillness.
His rapping echoes the wood,
then stops!

Buck suddenly starts,
legs tense,
head raised,
ears twitch back and forth.

Startled by some muffled sound
the herd gracefully bound
into the timber,
disappear.

The quiet returns.
Birds begin to sing.
Tapping again.
Another day begins

Submitted: Thursday, October 31, 2013
Edited: Friday, November 01, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Memory of my youth

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