The Forest

Margaret V.Doran

I chose my walk through the forest
because the green moss carpet
        looked so thick and soft
and the stately sword ferns bent
        their fronds, beckoning, inviting
as I pushed myself through the
        thickening underbrush
branches I thrust aside snapped and
        broke or gave way
nature prunes her garden with a
        heavy, loving hand

The healthy plants bent, allowing my passage and
        gently swung back into their own place
those that snapped and broke were
        dead before my arrival
many had failed to fall fully and were
        entwined with new growth
neither on the ground nor reaching
        upward
they existed in their dead state
        among the living
waiting for the wind, or me, to
        shake them from their non-existence

so they could fall to earth
and become part of that
        which feeds the roots

Copyright © 2005 Margaret V. Doran All rights reserved.
If you enjoyed this poem, please send her an e-mail here.

Updated March 8, 2005
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