Into the Thicket

I trundle

Along the

Weary length

Of a

Backwoods stream

And notice

Two deer.

They remove their

Sipping heads

From a pool of

Babbling flow

And I think

To myself,

Does anything

As tranquil

Reoccur when

No soul

Is present?


Looking for a new read? Take the car out for a moonlit drive 🌙 , roll the windows down 🚗 , crank up the jukebox oldies 🎵 , and check out my debut poetry collection Strange Cars in the Night on Amazon today.

Also, be sure to find me on Instagram @ blankpagesofmine and say hello!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s