And the tanekaha, ever so slow
It's there I go to fuel my fire
With cones to make the flames leap higher
And there I find the toadstalls gold,
Red ones tiny, or spotted bold
Every autumn I walk the trails
Preparing for approaching gails
And if perchance I should expire
Just add me to the winter fire.
3 comments:
Beautiful photos and lovely poem, isn't it a wonderful time of year.
I have just added a photo of toadstools emerging from under pine needles to the Beautiful World blog (included in the list of blogs I follow on the right of my blog page).
Juliet, I wanted to skip along in glee as I read your poem and found your pine cone, toadstools, and treasures of the forest. What a roaring fire you will have come winter.
Oh this did bring back childhood memories to me Juliet. Gathering pinecones with my mother.. the carpet of needles and the toadstools. Beautiful thank you.
Post a Comment