Woodland Walk

by Pat Fitzgerald, posted in Poetry

As one whose mind wanders often in thought. I so often find myself wandering away to childhood days, in a countryside far away from these bright city spaces. As a country boy I very often cling to dreams of what I call home. That quiet simple country life that suits my heart much easier. This is the point where I introduce today’s Poem.

It is a Poem from which I use a technique that should be easier to compose and edit poetry etc. Or so my active imagination thinks it would. Often, I take time to walk alone. I move to an area not very far away from where I live. This is a spot that makes me feel that I am closer to home than I actually am. For what I call home is still that country home away from city lights. This is a poem that I use techniques that should take the reader along to my childhood or childhood mind.

If this works it should make for an interesting walk through time on to what seemed to be easier days. But childhood days are always made to feel more interesting and easier. If this does not work, this poem will become a mess and a lot of confusion. I pray that you will enjoy this.

This is the best possible image for this Poem. Which works for this Poem and for this topic. All thanks go to AI that provides an image that works for this task. Thus credit goes to AI for the image.

Woodland Walk





Well, worn beneath my wandering feet, this path,
Where recent rains still rest in earthen air,
The river rushed along as I retraced my past,
Deep-drawn in drifting days of long ago laid bare.



When summer’s soft and sunlit days shone bright,
As silver showers swept in, children free from care,
The silent hills sprang stirring into life,
As though they sang in welcome to the rain-filled air.



Yet we ne’er cared nor feared the freely falling rain,
As silver streams slipped soft from sunlit cheeks again,
I’d sit in silent, searching awe ‘neath open skies,
Where shards of sun broke bright through drifting clouds on high.



As others raced on restless feet in careless play,
I perched on patient limb to pass the time away,
Watching warm sun-wisps weave through clouds with ease,
When, wondrous still, a lone heron settled by the trees.



Yet now my aging frame disturbed its gentle rest,
And left me lingering long with thoughts I can’t suppress,
For youth, like wings, had vanished to uncharted skies,
And I returned, once wandering, to where the river lies.







Copyright © 2026 Pat Fitzgerald 
All Rights Reserved

Thank you for coming with me on my little journey, that is composing or writing poetry. Life is a journey we all walk on. My journey in creating poetry is a journey of its own. Which I still learn much on as I write.

At times I experiment on techniques or ways to improve my poetry. Getting feedback is always most welcome for efforts like these.

When I write poetry, some readers will be offended with something within the poetry. I do not write to offend, But such are written for reasons I outline in the posts. Often I miss typos and mistakes when publishing each poem. I correct the moment I discover such mistakes.

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17 thoughts on “Woodland Walk”

  2. Beautiful work, Thank you for sharing.

    I wrote so quick, without a light –

    that each line fit – would shine once it,

    time and time would see as bright.

    06:00

    Time veiled rest from restless roam 05:10

    Woodland Walk Well,

    worn beneath my wandering feet, this path, Where recent rains still rest in earthen air, The river rushed along as I retraced my past, Deep-drawn in drifting days of long ago laid bare.

    A veil torn underneath my seek, this Bell rang there – where souls rest now in 6 Feet,

    as a bridge of silver – only one

    can keep, in dreams yet lingered –

    a find so rare, yet all

    would keep.

    05:14

    When summer’s soft and sunlit days shone bright, As silver showers swept in, children free from care, The silent hills sprang stirring into life, As though they sang in welcome to the rain-filled air.

    In weeping Winter’s wildest way,

    one rightly ancient – just bare to be still found lit roots

    long before arrived, my feet

    raced west like rest lost there

    when time as cost – a child’s

    soul stare, to survive

    Death lost, he could

    not dare.

    05:21

    Yet we ne’er cared nor feared the freely falling rain, As silver streams slipped soft from sunlit cheeks again, I’d sit in silent, searching awe ‘neath open skies, Where shards of sun broke bright through drifting clouds on high.

    His mind was calm, as nothing seemed more

    a scare, as to drift

    from loss – in timeless

    lost to Home as lair,

    now time would run – from

    alone Fight felt fair.

    05:25

    As others raced on restless feet in careless play, I perched on patient limb to pass the time away, Watching warm sun-wisps weave through clouds with ease, When, wondrous still, a lone heron settled by the trees.

    Away away I care less –

    I roam, where

    steep a path leads to which knows not self nor place

    called Home, alone

    as the clouds, met rainy brother,

    bro brought alone – in Sea

    of salt – a tree sprung

    Old, right led way as

    left would hold, away

    they met in story told, A seed

    sent sweep in river cold.

    05:31

    Yet now my aging frame disturbed its gentle rest, And left me lingering long with thoughts I can’t suppress, For youth, like wings, had vanished to uncharted skies, And I returned, once wandering, to where the river lies.

    What rage of ink was Will

    be – must behold?

    In songs they lost – as age lent

    bone from all must rise – in age will know, if wise which was,

    which demise as cost,

    from where Wanderer to turn, we must –

    when return wet rain – each

    path path it was, trust

    where rivers ran – faith fell

    late for fear felt

    fate – to roam.

    05:40

    05:47

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply
  4. Pingback: “WOODLAND WALK”/PAT FITZGERALD | By the Mighty Mumford

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