One of the few differences between Finley and me are that he longs to be amidst nature.
With that said, I enjoy Mikes poems that are influenced by nature.
The Wolf House
Needing a roof on a windy night
We came upon a shack above the logging zone.
We tiptoed in the twilight,
Afraid someone was inside,
And if so, what they might be.
No one was there so we made our beds
In the morning
We saw the claw marks in the wood,
And the hair in handfuls,
Suddenly free, and drifting
Out the door
I find this poem delightfully creepy. Can you imagine waking up in a wolves den?