The Wooded Lot

Written in college long ago and far away

I walked in silence of the hushed morning
To the wooded lot where I played as a child.
The frost imps had been there last night.
Decorating with their cold brush.
It must have embarrassed the trees,
For they covered the handywork with a foggy
shroud.
How futile they were to hide the beauty,
And hope I wouldn't notice...