The dry leaves crinkle and crunch under foot

I proceed slowly to reduce the noise

I must be careful not to trip over that root

So as to not disturb the woodland bois

.

Then I hear it—the flutter of wings

He lands on a branch and calls to a friend

Oh how I love to listen as the birds sing

This is a pleasure I would recommend

.

I find a log on which to sit and ponder

The big questions—what’s the meaning of life?

What a perfect place to let my mind wander

Far away from a world so full of strife

.

There’s nothing quite like a walk in the woods

Spend time in nature, everyone should

.

-Nick Whaley

(Please disregard the period between each stanza. I don’t know how else to separate the stanzas.)