New Poem

I used to live out in the woods
with animals that knew my name
and when I spoke they understood
the logic of my made up games.

And when I cried they came to me-
they hurried to my wounded side.
The birds sang from the highest trees
and to my friends I would confide.

When it grew dark I was not scared,
though mother always called me in.
Yet I would never tell her where
the center of my fun had been.

Outside again I'll call them now,
but with the pines I forget how.