My Gray November Woods (standard:poetry, 167 words)
Author: J P St. Jullian	Added: Jul 15 2002	Views/Reads: 3358/0	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A poem about the forests of my Mississippi youth in winter.

My Gray November Woods 

by J P St. Jullian 

As lovely as a syrene song were those silent Southern woods 

That lured me like a piper on those gray  November days, 

As wind danced leaves fell like red, and golden hoods 

Upon quiet, familiar paths and long forgotten ways. 

From the massive beech and the majestic oak, 

And birches white and slim, 

Like the pillared aisles of a Cathedral stood 

Looming vast foreboding and dim. 

Evening mists like smoking incense 

Hangs fragrantly upon the air . . . 

Along those old paths where birds would sing 

Around trees standing stripped and bare, 

Forming Gothic arches 

With branches interlaced, 

And windows framing vistas, 

Richly wrought and finely laced. 

It was good to be in that hallowed place 

To commune on such a day, 

Problems vanished from my mind 

And sorrows would steal away; 

In the woods of my youthful gray November 

So silent, and oh, so austere, 

Nature gave to me her blessing 

And wiped away my fear. 


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