Micaela Cyr

Walking Through The Woods

As the wind picks up, I put on my coat.
I search for my scarf and for my warm boots.
My dog and I then set off for the woods.
The leaves and dirt crunch under paws and feet.
As we go deeper, the noise slowly dies.
The sounds of people and bikes and cars fade.
The only noise we hear now is from us.
We walk around the pond, and see ourselves
In the reflection of the murky pond.
And deeper we go, over a small bridge.
The wooden planks are starting to sound worn.
A stream moves lazily and so slowly.
We explore, by going to the places
We have never gone before. We turn left,
Down narrow long paths littered with footprints.
Now right, we come before a fallen tree.
Its huge trunk lifted from the soil. The roots
Extend high up into the air. When I
Glance up, a bright red cardinal stares back.
Talkative squirrels run up a nearby tree.
A rock that quickly moves when my dog is
Too close, escapes with its white tail up high.
Now a colorful blue jay flies past us.
It sits on a dark barren branch to sing
Its song. When finally we reach the end
And get back to our civilization,
A biker zooms past and a baby cries.
It is the ending of our peaceful walk.


Copyright 2002-2007 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2007 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.