Travel in the Woods
By Amy Atkinson
My garden path leads into the woods
exploding with life and so many goods!
An old growth forest, staggered towering canopy adorn with an assortment of conifer and flowering deciduous trees.
Scrawny witch hazels blooms, twisted haggard stringy petals pluming.
Scarred up sugar maples line the way, covered with plugged spring wounds, contributions still weeping sweet sugars gently seeping.
The acorns are abundant this year, racing squirrels hoarding bounty without care, dashing stashing nut share.
Haunting statues of demised, standing ash littering the view with blight engulfing waste, rotted many years turning to paste.
Saplings stretching starving for spare light struggling a crowded new life, huge pillars encapsulating left and right.
Grooves covered in sticky white pitch of jack pines, radiating slight scents of turpentine throughout air, spiny needles carpet the floor everywhere.
Game trails criss' crossing deep, impressions smashed into the bare earth, revealing hoofed depressions.
A mangled stump of a fallen grandfather oak, trunk and branches spun by storm tangles the ground. A feast for mushrooms dotting the decaying plunder all around.
Author Notes: My best poem
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