My PlaceThe enclosed woods are calling me, calling me
As I press my hand against the old birch tree.
The still green pond is thanking me, thanking me
For not turning it into a high sea.
The gentle wind is helping me, helping me
By clearing the soft ground of all the debris.
The fallen tree welcomes me, welcomes me
So I take the seat thatís offered for free.
I sit there, on the dead oak tree
Wondering what would be
If the woods werenít there to comfort me.
[TABLE OF CONTENTS, LHS CLASS OF 2010 EDITION]
Copyright © 2002-2008 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose ©
2002-2008 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.