Deep in the woods prone on a wooden bench I gaze up Through the pines Branches gently sway Light patterns last Only seconds Heavens shift continuously Light color and shape Birds trill in constant song Weaving together without clash Each keeping to his own melody Within this park lives art Golden dog Towering steel Jail of fences Dancers caught Frozen in time Acres of art Man made beauty Planted amidst pastoral retreat Combine to create The essence of art Psysical spiritual and true It brings joy and Lasts in memory When we return to Banal routine
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A stone house Hidden in the trees Had a door so small A head shorter than Either of us A faery tale house Perfect for a witch To creep Shortened by her hunch She fit perfectly Through the door Or Goldilocks But never mama or papa bear So who lived there In the storybook house Near the gingerbread village We only stopped for A moment As we biked by No answers there No note on the door For the wolf Or the woodcutter We pedaled on and Forgot the cottage Which nestled back Into its Green slumber Once again The swan family paddles Near the diners Along the canal Baby swan speed walks On top of water Wings flapping Feet running Ducks and seagulls Compete for bread Thrown in the canal But the swans are too precious And take all the spoils Terns perform an Air show Swooping in figure eights While from a rooftop a Mourning dove Sang us all a lullaby |