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Nature Pastoral Poetry

Tales of the Wild Woods: Summer time

When beautiful summer came…

Upon the glades and vales of the wild woods
The Mountain took her position and stood quietly by the forest side,
Sniffing the sweet smell come from fresh growing flower shrubs
Happy birds came flying home
Followed by pretty insects and the boar herd

The skies tinted with blue skirmish
Sometimes seemed to rain, but it won’t
The tomatoes ripe fast and blush deep
Whenever the black beetles walk up to her for a chat
The sun shine brightly, amused at all reunions
For the community knew many happy times
This was one of those beautiful moments, exhilarating
Antelopes graze majestically beneath tree shade
And squirrels hide behind the branches, watching
“Awww, do you see that?” the pink footed Doves quiz themselves
For in a sudden, a seed came sprouting from the last snow dot
How joyful it was, the Mountain wore a dark gown
Waiting for who dared to admire her triangular shape,
For her lover, the Ice-King travelled far away to other lands
Carrying with himself; all stray winds, both little and mighty
Maybe, to find another lover, but she believed not that
For she heard it as a rumor from the busybodies grey Wolves
The Pines look taller, the snow has left their frost-bitten roots
And when they look down, they feel good about themselves
“Oh, how awfully painful the frost bite was on our foot”
The crickets wonder, leaping from a grass leaf to another
Allowing the wet airs to sift through their fine long body
“The dead Earth is alive!” They yell in utmost joy and unison
“Look at the Mountain, must she dress scantily
Now the Ice-King has no use for her iniquities?”
A confused Wolf said, hiding his face from the sun’s light
“And what beauty she has brought forth”, a Linnet replied
“The flowers blossom in magnificent desires
The tree leaves are greener, and the airs milder
But are all these, the only wealth of the summer?”
The philosophical Woodpecker asked as he shook his head
For to him, the soul of living and happiness
Comes not in the summer nor the winter

By Oke Iroegbu

Finance Graduate, Bibliophile and Bard of Ovim, his homeland. Read more at www.oiroegbu.com/about