A Walk in a Bog

sound device poem

I past beneath a weeping willow

Slowly blowing in the wind

Fire flies buzzed, putting on a show

I swiftly scrambled to the place where my mind was pinned

But I stumbled on some sand and the wind began to blow

The pitter- patter of rain, however, thinned

I stood up and continued through the trees, all in a condition of overgrow

The catch of the sight of a lighted window, ignited my spirits and I grinned

Seeing the nearby pond of which I was fond I picked up and hurled a stone with a throw

I watched and against the water it skimmed

Suddenly, swooping down with a screech, a bat flew down in a swift shadow

But drawing closer I saw the little house; with rick-rack its roof lines were trimmed

I walked onward, guided by the bright light of the window

Dreaming of the steaming stove, of which always goodness brimmed

I persisted on my journey, and quickly rushed into the door to narrowly miss a passing crow

Author's Note

This poem has already been published in a 2016 book called Accomplished by The American Library of Poetry, but I wanted to share it anyway.