Pondering

The grass grew under my feet, 
As I rested my soul by the sequoia tree. 
The forest speaks a foreign tongue. 
Baby deer, oh to be young. 
 
Pelicans litter the skies, 
Guess it’s their time for goodbyes. 
Snow will blanket soon. 
Ground hogs, skunks marching to winter tombs. 
 
I ponder will I join the forest, 
In its hibernation, 
Or free the grass from my foundation. 
My friends are warm now. 
I will return home, retire my plough. 
We will all wait until spring, 
Dreaming of the joys it will bring.  
 
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