I picked up a loose piece of birch bark,
writing nonsense as I carefully study the clouds,
the sky has many shades of gray today,
perhaps the rain will pass this way
as it appears it's raining north of us over the lake.
I use a short pencil I keep in my pack,
the found birch paper holds my random thoughts quite well,
some might call it a poem or free verse,
but capturing the moment isn't always easy.
The blue day behind the clouds,
the layers of gray drifting shapes,
I think the sun may peek through before it rains.
The wind picks up on the beach and waves are noticeably
louder as the surf rolls up further on the sand.
I believe I'll write this down before heading home
as a few big drops start to patter down,
on my head and down on to the sand.
I tuck the birch bark and pencil back into
my small pack and start back up the dune
to the woods path, that will carry me home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A natural scene painted well with words. Thanks for sharing.