3 poems- one area
I find myself in a place looking through the woods,
into the water,
enjoying the soul of the currents,
feeling the breeze of the area.
The state of the world is not on its agenda.
The peace is its approach.
The trees block the view,
the leaves have water dripping down from the rain of the previous night,
washing down the remnants of what was.
Looking through a piece of art,
As it sits in the middle of the grounds.
A sense of understanding occurs,
I once thought creativity was beyond me.
Creativity is not mine to judge,
It is the eye of those that follow;
Love it, like it, hate it,
The heart expels its desires,
The beauty is doing what others say:
The trees surrounds,
Gives no openings to what breaths,
Outside of my nature’s walls.
Voices carry through,
Animals voice big into the night.
Sitting here realizing my oasis,
Has a placement in my life.
For here trees are heard when they fall,
The outside world begs to enter,
As the walls loses its minions.
The correlation in these three poems is, it is my yard. I live in a very remote area, my house, and yard is too big, I don’t own, but I love the wooded area. Being so close to the water is exciting, I would love this with more woods, less house. My new neighbors tore down some trees to add a fence, I miss my wonderful trees, I can almost see the road outside my little paradise.