I usually don’t dabble in poetry. I don’t understand the rhythms involved and leave it to those with more…flow or something. I don’t know what it takes to write poetry, but sometimes I stand under the impossibly blue, impossibly vast sky and the Earth hums to me, tells me what to say. This probably won’t make much sense, but I didn’t think poetry had to. If you have a much better poem (let’s stick to the theme of wilderness or the outdoors), leave it in the comments.
stay with me now,
as i jump from thought to thought
the stepping stones are covered with moss
yes, it feels quite soft
the winds are in the treetops, the sky is about to fall
and if we don’t have a tomorrow
i’ll tell ya now,
i swear i loved it all
