Woodlands sleeps in blankets deep,
a hidden forest of secrets to keep.
Home of nature's splendid creations,
wintertime home of quiet white occupation.
I've stopped times partaking hidden beauty,
most times traveling in woodman's duties.
In summertime it's many trails familiar,
in wintry twilight I can scarcely remember.
Off in the distance the sound of a brook,
swallow and slow in frozen wintry nook.
Berries and brier scattered sparsely around,
covered fields of crisp forage to be found.
I love this peacefully forest in twilit hours,
in it's scenic revelry of nature's sweet powers.
~~Suseann~~



Blessings, Gypsy
Beautiful poem suseann but I'm still mad at ole man winter
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