In spring, all summer, and through the fall,
The woods to me is a clarion call–
What are the woods to you?
The woods to me is a catbird’s song
That trickles and trips as it skips along;
A dogwood’s blossoms beneath the moon;
A flash of butterfly gone too soon–
What are the woods to you?
The woods to me are the flowers of spring
That brave the snows while winter is King;
The smell of the dawning bathed with dew;
An indigo bunting’s startling hue–
What are the woods to you?
The woods to me means a pa,th under trees;
The lazy sunshine; ambitious bees.
When life is flat and the pleasures pall,
The woods weave a melody over it all–
What are the woods to you?
The woods to me is a living book
Whose pages open when I just look;
However often observed before,
What I first see is discovered once more.
The woods, to me, is a ringing call
In spring, all summer, and through the fall–
What are the woods to you?
….
by Ray Romine Monday, April 8, 1946
