269. Wild 

The sirens call of the wild is a lustful, alluring sound that I’ve grown quite accustomed to over the years. It echoes through dense forestry, floats soothingly over open plains and splashes quietly with every wave that hits the beach shore. I wrote this micropoem about the call of the wild. 

Come play, she beckons, 

Hidden troves,

Windswept wilderness,

Sunset glow,

Do you know what becomes of,

A soul bereft of simple soil?

It cannot root, much like the tree,

In mother natures womb. 

(Photo – Eli Woodbine, Toronto, 2016) 

Advertisements

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 )

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s