Quiet Place in the Woods

He lived near the woods which were part of his life
Carved whistles he would with his hunting knife
He loved the longbow with a quiver full of arrows
It was the time of Robin Hood and ladies in towers.

A hundred yards from home was the edge of bare land
Seldom he went there alone but often with a small band
They would enter the woods in the spring or summertime
And when staying in pairs their journey would be fine.

The woods kept changing as he walked or ran along
Bushes and trees rearranging like lyrics in a song
The bog and cranberry field were the first to disappear
Then he understood that the grassy clearing was near.

The curved path narrowed within one hundred yards
Being with friends was power like having trump cards
Clouds floating by would sometimes block the sun
Then the land turned cool and a breeze would come.

Strange shadows cast were eerie in the daylight
It's not a place he would go with the coming of night
A few times I remember he went there on his own
But I'm sure he'd recommend to not go there alone.

Encompassed by woods the opening appeared
The direction he knew could surely be more clear
He shared that feeling with all which was good
And often they paused there because they could.

Looking overhead he enjoyed the sky of deep blue
To the right was a wide path they could run through
How tempting the way to the right often seemed
But they wouldn't arrive at that place so serene.

To the left was a path at best difficult to even find
It was narrow with bushes crossing the crooked line
At times he led the way and other times he followed
Ducking low branches and jumping logs hollowed.

Seldom did he slow to walk even for a short while
And there was no time to talk in that last half mile
Thick trees greeted all on a thin path trodden down
And sometimes brown soil showed on the ground.

Then at the end of that run the scenery changed
And now the whole setting seemed to be strange
The woods were now spacious like a magical forest
The trees needed were abundant and there was rest.

And he couldn't help but stand and enjoy the place
It warmed him inside and put a smile on his face
Chickadees and blackbirds were heard close by
And at times a duck would over the treetops fly.

He never arrived at Doones without looking around
To a young kid it felt like he was on hallowed ground
The heat of the sun warmed those who were cold
And trees spaced and majestic even appeared bold.

In summertime that open ground was mostly dry
The spring moisture had ascended into the sky
Early fall brought maple leaves to the forest floor
Which were adorned with colors that many adore.

Perfumes and odors added pleasantly to the smell
Seen only in daylight the experience was swell
The special visit there was like being in a camp
But not for an overnight stay as night air was damp.

There were some flowers also, but not a great lot
The forest fragrance was not his reason for that spot
He came to play a bit and partake of its great bounty
Home at Sunday school time was not a place to be.

The bounty was so plentiful as forests for Robin Hood
And the many uses of that wood he never understood
Longbows and arrows, whistles and slingshots too
Lobster traps and stilts were some to name a few.

He couldn't see his weekend attending Sunday school
But the fact he had no problem going to church is true
His first fishing rod was a long stick from the woods
His faith was trusting he could catch fish and he would.

His faith is like a forest path that he follows in the light
Which brings him to a fountain that is flowing with life
His faith is like a forest filled with great abundance
Which allows him to whistle, to sing and to dance.

*Written by Harvey Bond
August 7, 2007