The Woods


The wild woods call to me

Not in a voice of thunder

Or the crash of wave

But in a quiet whisper

Of gentle wind

Or distant call

Of wolf and hawk
The wild woods call to me

A whisper among the bustle

A strange smell in the city

A myster just beyond

The steel and concrete

The woods with its ancient trees

And hidden mysteries

Hold more for me

Than the riches of the city
The wild woods call to me

A hidden grace

And full of wonder

That does not age or tarnish

To see the beasts wander

And the birds make their home

This is the world that calls to me

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