The Forest

A Poem by Shade Teller

Things are not always what seem.

Walking through a forest,
hearing the birds and bees,
smiling at the warming sun,
feeling the morning breeze.

Here there are the forest wonders,
everywhere one sees,
The winding dirt trails,
the magnificent pine trees.

The noon sun rises high
animals go to the stream,
to drink to their minds content,
to wade and lazily dream.

Afternoon begins to descend,
a silence stains the wood.
nothing is as how it would seem,
but is as how it should.

The night falls on the forest,
Deaths bleed itself on the forest floor.
Now these forest wonders,
are no wonders anymore.