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THROCKMORTOM WOOD

  • Thread starter Thread starter Robert Harrison
  • Start date Start date
R

Robert Harrison

Guest
Gray clouds hide a once blue sky
and a rainbow tiara’s the hills on high.
Brown trout do leap in river so clear,
grassed banks are milk to fawning deer.

The flowers of spring are all in bloom,
and Pan plays to lovers a merry tune,
While Cupid aims his arrow straight
to pierce the heart of a lovesick mate.

The Red squirrels store is all but done,
ti’s spring and they must turn to fun.
For next seasons store has yet to grow,
so earth will provide from beneath late snow.

A lone Swallow dives with open beak,
gathering insects which she must seek
to feed her young nested in Holly bush,
high above that of a bright eyed Thrush.

A sweet spring, enchanting to behold,
such a season when fairy tales are told
of Brock and Felix and Toad of Toad Hall,
in Throckmorton Wood with animals all.

Man is most welcome to this quiet diadem
but must leave behind the world of men.
So that nature may enfold him in her arms,
thus impart to him her most soothing balms.

In the stillness of the all embracing wood,
when from time immemorial trees have stood.
Observant man will loose all remembered trace,
that he was once ever part of the human race.
 
I really do like this poem........Robert I have just re-read your poem and would ask you this....... Perhap you might wander once more through the wood, but in another season?
 
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