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Whispers














  
Whispers



The forest calls my name;
Unfamiliar, but sweet –
Like honeysuckles on the wind.

The trees wave to me.
Crickets chirp away.
Birds sing the sun to sleep
And the blanket of night falls quiet.

Moonbeams fall across the forest floor.

I drink the sounds
Of winded rustles slowly turning still.
I listen for the flaps of wings
Returning to their beds.

The night has come and I’m miles from home –
I’m nurtured all the same.
Through creaks, bumbles, snaps, and chirps,
The forest calls my name.



Nathan Bauman


Nathan Bauman is an aspiring writer and poet. He’s earned his B.A. in English with a minor in Creative Writing from Cumberland University, and has been published in Novus Literary, his alma mater's undergraduate journal. In all his work, Nathan hopes to inspire conversation from the shattered images he puts on the page.

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2 Comments

  1. This is a lovely poem, Nathan, with many picturesque images.

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  2. Yo! Look at my boy getting love in the comment section!
    Proud of you, bro!

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