Before words,

Poetry was what I saw,

                Outside my window.

Swallows swooping from,

                Spittle-caked nests.

Bobcats bounding among,

                Bulging blackberries.

Wary white-tails blending,

                With willow branches.

Pymatuning Lake thick,

                With pike and perch.

Hay fields with hay bales stretching,

                Half a mile.

Patient pine trees,

Cozy cedar branches,

Narnia inspired woods and meadows,

Words do them

                No justice.

But I try to make them.