Home Page
Link to vsl Paintings
Link to Poems of Fier

Link to Thoughts of Nick & Jake

The Woods

I carry myself into the woods
Sprouting sapplings - Towering oak
Natures sounds are a silence I seek
From supple valley to rugaged peak
Man and my malavalance like water through the bedrock seeps
I would rather a hobbit be, but please not a baggens from bag-end
For adventures are not a plearsure of which I bend and hope
Let me tend to simple stuff, a home, a hearth, a small circle of friends
To the words upon this virgin page, half sleeps, dreams, carries away
Wind at my back and a mix of sun and shade on my face
To the smell of fresh cut wheat and the new bail of hay
For my thoughts are of you awaiting
In the cool of the dusk of the day
For after a walk in nature
Love is where I want to lay my head
Even words cannot be better than
Beer, Breath, and you in my Bed.