This is a repost of a poem I wrote a while ago. It kind of sounds like a song...
Down in the hollow where the wildflowers grow,
near a busy beaver pond, where the water flows slow,
on a branch up high in an old apple tree,
sits a proud whippoorwill and a little chickadee.
A busy woodpecker in his dogwood tree
whistles to his neighbors sitting happy as can be,
then he goes back to work in the tree where he sat,
Rat a tat!
Rat a tat!
Tat! Tat! Tat!
The buttercups yearn to be kissed by the bees,
as the long green grasses dance gaily in the breeze
while a love song rises from a muddy frog pit,
and echoes through the forest
In a sweet clover patch not too far from here,
bunny rabbits munch near the white-tailed deer
as a mother duck leads her waddling pack,
to the clear blue stream with a
Later that day when the sun falls low,
an orchestra of crickets play a symphony below
while a single star shimmers in the velvety night,
and the forest is aglow with firefly light.
When the woodland creatures settle down to sleep
and the nighttime wanderers begin to creep,
The possums wake and the red fox too,
as the great owl calls,
Who are you?
Standing on a cliff beneath the silvery moon,
a lone gray wolf howls a sad, mournful tune
while the bats fly high and the raccoons play
in Huckleberry Hollow at the end of the day