Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, WOOD MAGIC, by FRANCES HALLEY BROCKETT



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WOOD MAGIC, by            
First Line: Sun's rays a-slantin' clear across the wood
Last Line: Feels like I'm growin' here, brother to the tree.
Subject(s): Dreams; Nightmares


Sun's rays a-slantin' clear across the wood,
Bits o' patchy shadow movin' in and out,
Tall solemn pine trees standin' holdin' hands
Hushin' all the noisy squirrels skitterin' about;

Bits o' lacy fern a-trimmin' up a rock—
Green and mossy softness where the waters drip;
Wrinklin' up the shiny pool in shiverin' sort o' rings,
Slitherin' out to nothin' where the willows dip;

Sweetest smell a-siftin' through the sun-warmed air
Sort o' golden comfort oozin' round me everywhere;
Earth's a-breathin' slow and deep—cuddlin' all the roots,
Dreamin' now in blossom time about the coming fruits;

Everything is awful still: no one here but me—
Feels like I'm growin' here, brother to the tree.





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