Along this forest path I walk,
A bird stops by, with me to talk.
The calming sounds are here so sweet,
Like crunching leaves beneath my feet.
But further on upon the ground,
Pine needles lay and make no sound.
Those giant pines stand proud and tall,
And drop their needles over all.
Rarely in this place shines the sun,
Yet here is life, thriving and fun.
Indian pipe and orchids grow,
All kinds of mushrooms I don’t know.
Plus squirrels playing in the trees,
While cutting pine cones as they please.
Deer jump, and run, having some fun,
Come, see such treasures one by one.
© 2019 Steve McLeod.