Wooded Path

Trees swaying in the spring breeze,
Dirt underneath my feet as I walk,
Listening to the buzzing of the busy bees,
A nest on a branch with eggs inside but where is the hawk?

Out to get food for its young I hope,
Mother bird will be back soon,
A tire swing hanging from a old rope,
A butterfly coming out of its cocoon.

This wooded path is the one I love the most,
So much beauty all around,
Being welcomed by the lovely host,
Being welcomed by that precious sound.