we called it the Prehistoric Forest
every nook and cranny of home had a name
it was a dank and mossy glen beside the creek
it brought to mind the distant ancestors
not our human kin but back to the beginning
back to slithery things like centipedes
back to slippery things like frogs and snakes
back to invisible amoebas only imagined
woodland spiders hung their capture nets
and black dead fall limbs littered the path
there were ferns and cane brakes and mysteries
and if there was a rustle in the trees
perhaps it was a squirrel or perhaps tyrannosaur
on cool mornings a fog settled over the creek
I could stay until the cloud lifted but I would go
better to remember it that way shrouded in mist
Thanks. I did manage to find the right photo that closely matches the place I was writing about.
Childhood memories last in mind for long time. Mystery is reveled in this poem amazingly with wise expression about the theme of this poem....10
again Barry you dredged up my own childhood memories! I also had a place by the side of a creek, but mine was in the Appalachian woods in Penna. and it was magical to me also. Yours is definitely more bayou than mine, but those magical places never leave your memory, thank goodness! Lovely poem....
Thank you Marianne, I wrote this about three years ago. The woodlands are magical places wherever they are. I miss them more than anything. I appreciate the response.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your magical description makes me long for a place like the one you spent your childhood in. I have a fascination with trees and woods. This poem makes my day. I can't have enough of forests n trees. Thanku for sharing Barry.
I am so glad you liked it. I wish I could go back to that very spot but Florida is my home now.