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 πŸŒ™ , roll the windows down πŸš— , 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!

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