Woodland Hideout Poem by Torry Young

Woodland Hideout



Moist dirt
Soft Beneath our feet
Descending the hill
To our playground

The creek high
Above the Poison Oak
And shattered slate rocks

No indication
Of creatures
Playfully scurrying
Within the trees

Our youth
Swallowing our maturity
As we totter across the fallen logs
Over the stream

Flashing sporadic
Smirks for the
Canon SX500 PowerShot

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