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Some poetry by me:
I am lost in the pines,
I twist through the aspen grove,
Like a mountain stream,
Flowing down the mountain side,
Eroding away that which does not serve me,
Carving the rock and stone and gravel,
Boundless and aimless,
The wind whispers in my ear,
And I babble back.
All the woods rely on this brook,
All the roots, leaves, and stems hold my water,
Every creature of the woods,
Flora, fauna, and fungi,
I feel essential,
And I yearn for nothing. 0 reply
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