Solitary Walks – I

It’s early, and
The waking trees
Are moving slightly
With the breeze

I walk along
The forest edge
Although but lightly
I’ll allege

To each, indeed,
To all I see;
But that will not
Be many –

For I am out
Here all alone,
Companions I’ve
Not any.

It’s early, and
The woods unknown
To me, are calling
Out my name –

I find a path
To make my way,
With no forestalling
And no blame –

To each I find
I’d say I word,
But I will see
No faces

Except those of
The ancient trees
Where I still find
Small traces

Of forest lore
From long ago,
Of people dead
And gone

Who only come
When you’re alone
And it is just
Past dawn

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Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

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