We venture out, our scarves wrapped tight
Dogs and owners hove in sight;
By rough-hewn logs, we watch them pass
Intent upon their daily task…
The misty sun outlines beech trees
Whose leaves gyrate in autumn frieze;
This “golden rain” lights up my muse
A healthy crunch felt under shoes!
Sometimes, a jogger ambles by
With face determined, hair awry
Or couples, hand in hand, sedate
Lost to the world on private date…
Dark shadows lengthen – it is dusk
The wood holds no one else but us;
Bold street lights beckon through the trees…
We treasure moments such as these!
(c) Poet in the woods 2025
Drève de Bonne Odeur, Boitsfort
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