Wooden soldiers
Tall and strong
Guarding woodlands
In rows so long.
Hard and fast
Taller than grass
Grown to last
of old, cut as a mast.
Reaching skyward
Surveying all around
Casting long shadows westward
Towering flora that abound.
New saplings now old
One story they have told
Deep roots make them bold
As branches unfold
Some older than man
Cast deep in the ground
Hid the old clan
Felt the wet nose of a hound.
Lovers lay beneath it's branches
basking in the sun
Exhausted from their horizontal fun
Beads of sweat, down their bodies run.
Words of love trip off their tongue.
Tall and mighty
Bark textured rough
Their leaves small and flighty
Young children's shoes did scuff
Catching their dreams
As they climb so high
Of rescuing maidens
From pirates nearby.
With bows and not so straight arrows
They grin and they smile
As they aim at a sparrow
and miss by a mile.
From it's branches they do swing
Hanging by a limb
Lots of noise, not muffled din.
Hot summer, time to swim.
A really fantastic poem, trees can look so beautiful when fully grown, a great write.
A well considered interaction between trees and people over time and our appreciation of and reliance on them and their longevity.
In my Country, is always sunny days, I try imagine the changing of the seasons in you forest, wood.....Changing the people too? ? ? I think so. Beautiful! ! !
This poem reminds me of an Epic-simile by Keats in Hyperion, where he talks about trees as Green-robed senators of the mighty woods... a memorable poem about trees as an object of nature...
A wonderful poem and a great description, your words just flow, much enjoyed the read.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Excellent write about trees Robin, very descriptive - bet they felt more than just the wet nose of a hound though! !