Our new pine forests,
not what we once had, they’re gone ~
But our own, now best.
When we were youngsters,
You could get no better day,
Than one in the pines.
Their permafresh smell,
Their hidden depths ~ dark green womb,
The wind, filtered sounds.
It’s a sterile world,
The adults tell us, knowing
nothing of our blood.
And in an emerald clearing
There is a particular light;
A hind, silent and still,
Stares back at you ~
And you know you are at home.
duncancleary 
Awesomely vivid and beautiful. A wonderful piece of work. I felt as though I were in the clearing, staring up at the blue sky between the tree tops. Nice!
Thanks Charles, I think woods are at their best when the sky is still visible.
cool sentiments shared, cheers.
happy Potluck.