With closed eyes

I walk beneath the trees

so green with new growth

the very air breathes life

Can you smell it? 

This arboretum

has no gardener save

the poet who plants every

towering tree & flower

with his words

Hear the spring

splashing over rocks

never spent unexhausted

crisp as May wine

on the tongue

In this wood

all seasons merge

jonquil & chrysanthemum

bloom side by side

in the meadow

The apple tree

blossoms & bears

blushes & burns all at once

so to soothe a restless

heart’s distress

With closed eyes

I walk beneath the trees


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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4 Responses to Arboretum

  1. I can really feel the words you’re writing. ‘Crisp as May wine’ is a great example of this.


  2. This has such a light and airy flow to it. Very nice.


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