What the Woods Whisper

I can see you, bashful child,
Hiding in my bones.
I can feel your sneakered feet
Slip on stepping stones.

Now you pause for polliwogs,
Now you cross the creek,
A burdock tangled in your hair,
My breath against your cheek.

Why do you play here all alone,
Among the curling ferns?
I watch you through the canopy
With an eye that burns.

Crows, cicadas, rustling leaves,
Make a raucous hush.
You startle as a garter snake
Disturbs the underbrush.

Far from home and schoolyard
And their confused alarms
You seek the shady solace
Of my long arms.

Rose Kelleher

If you have any comments on this poem, Rose Kelleher would be pleased to hear them.

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