The Magic Forest

A foreigner from fielded lands
With prairie thoughts of desert sands
Who’d never seen a wood of oak,
He came to visit forest folk.
And in surprise he only sees
The mighty oaks and cypress knees,
Begged, “Someone will you help me please?
    I cannot see the forest for the trees.”

So I, a common forest folk,
Rustled in the leaves and spoke,
“Don’t look into the wooden faces
Searching for the forest places;
Wander with the scented breeze,
Past mighty oaks and cypress knees,
Forget the timber your eye sees;
    Our forest is the space between the trees.”

|| My Poetry ||