One of my older poems
about somewhere I love to roam…………..
Hainault Forest.
The forest, damp and dismal is still a wondrous place,
It holds so many secrets in its dark green shrouded space.
Nature’s solid beauty that’s seen in an oak tree,
The singing birds, unspoken words, the humming of the bee.
The brown blackbird within its nest,
The heron on one leg at rest,
The squirrel scampering through the tree,
These are some things, which you can see.
The lakes with frogs, fish, ducks and geese,
The long dry grass moves with the breeze,
The silence, save for the curlews cry
As tufts of clouds in the sky drift by.
The pheasants showing their dark red crests,
The green woodpecker that never rests,
The hare out running at great speed,
The dandelions with their airborne seed.
The sound of laughter from somewhere nearby,
The crying call of a small lost boy,
The sight of a fox out with its young,
The rabbits romping having fun.
Young lovers walking hand in hand,
The distant sound of a small brass band,
The sudden cry of a startled Jay,
The setting sun, the end of day.
So what at first seemed dark and grey,
Holds secrets of a world at play,
Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder,
So open yours to nature’s wonder.
Such marvels which are in Gods Plan,
Were given by Him, to earthly man,
So I beg you, if you please,
See the forest - not just the trees.
-----------Mike----------
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