I'm sure that I'm forgetting something. There has been poetry popping up from time to time in "N" magazine.
Here's that one mentioned above. I decided to write it out. (p.47)
Naked Innocence
In a meadow lined with pines,
Dotted with owl's clover
In a time reserved for growing,
Breezy treetops watched over
Playful, carefree bodies
Immersed in their own reality.
Nature's children: silent, naked,
In perfect harmony
With the forest's concert
That frolics about them.
They hear without listening...
At stream side they bask in life
And surrender to its melody--
Occupying themselves in solitude
Without having to be alone. They are, without having to be told...
The progeny as infants blessed
Were touched by Nature
With the hand that made
A goose's down
And set the sun ablaze.
In charity the woodlands gave
At birth its legacy and love.
They play and love, without having to be shown...
The brook pranced by on timid feet
And children bathed undaunted
In their earthly garden
Without single care of being nude.
And free, recognized the worldly allies
That lived and bloomed about them.
Se wise, without to be taught...
Yes, near the bank they sat
In tepid comfort
And watched reflections
That went unchallenged.
Watching from a distance
We who've passed and known that very place
Will recall the youth we've lost
And try, so hard, their ways relearn...