Walking Weymouth Woods

By Iris Llewellyn Angle » Photo by John Patota

I wrap sunshine around my shoulders,

not to keep warm but to remember.


Sky so blue, I cannot describe.

Maybe the blue John Glenn saw when he

looked back at Earth on his space-ride.


I hear a giant pine tree groan,

then a stick sprouts wings and flies,

grasshopper foreign in February.


Pinecones float on a sea of non-ocean sand,

sandhills sand spiked with pine needles,

dried leaves and red dirt.


Green pasture sneaks between longleaf pines,

Maybe the green of spring as Earth awakens

from its long, lazy sleep.


I step around a pile of horse dumplings reminding

me to share this path disappearing into meadow.

Two girls take advantage of the sun rays,


lying there giggling. Why didn’t I think of that?

Wind whispers: keep walking, listen, remember.