Nature’s Colours Paint the Woods

These ancient pillars stand, with spreading hoods,

While Nature’s colours paint the woods.

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Surrounded now by towering trees,

Softly swaying in the breeze.

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Stepping over withered roots;

Ankles brushing grassy shoots.

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Shady patches with woodland spaces.

Windswept banks and silent places.

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Tangled branches form a web,

Keeping sunrays at an ebb.

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Reeds and grasses softly quiver,

Along the banks of stream and river.

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Smooth and rough and jagged trunks.

Paperbark hangs in stringy chunks.

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Arching branches and tangled leaves,

Lining pathways with shady eaves.

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Healthy trees standing gladly.

Withering trees drooping sadly.

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Some ripped and torn and showing strife;

Others pristine, green with life.

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Mighty boughs like arms stretched wide;

Others grounded, cast aside.

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Windblown needles send out a cry,

While large, soft leaves merely sigh.

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Flaking bark and stringy vines.

Twiggy patterns of all designs.

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Leaves gyrate in a churning wind;

Falling, leaving branches thinned.

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Broken pieces from nature’s store

Lie scattered across the forest floor.

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Ancient pillars, with spreading hoods,

All while Nature’s colours paint the woods.