Poems in the Breeze

Walking through the western woods
there were poems all around,
in the trees, the babbling brook
some were even on the ground.

Words fell like autumn leaves
without making a sound,
scooped up into stanzas
with meanings so profound.

A mockingbird memorized
verses drifting on the breeze,
stole and shared them as his own
without vain apologies.

The deer listened carefully
in great anticipation,
loved the graceful rhyme and rhythm
cheered the alliteration.

Young man sat gaily penning,
his back against a tall tree,
gathering all the phrases
into a grand potpourri

of murmuring dancing clouds,
tales of soulful scenic wonder,
until thoughts were interrupted
by a distant roll of thunder.

He noted gathering darkness,
sensed possibility of rain,
gathered up his pen and paper
carefully wrote one last refrain.

Folded his tartan blanket
took one fleeting look around,
was pleased to see more poems
floating gladly to the ground.