Hello forest, dense forest,
Full of fairy tales and miracles!
What are you making noise about?
On a dark, stormy night?
What are you whispering at dawn?
All in dew like in silver?
Who is hiding in your wilderness?
What kind of animal? What bird?
Open everything, don’t hide:
You see - we are our own!
The firs look
Violent,
Their paws are covered
With thorns,
Yes, the fir’s thorns are kind,
You can even pet them.
Ate at the edge of the forest -
To the top of the sky -
They listen, they are silent,
They look at their grandchildren.
And the grandchildren are Christmas trees,
Thin needles -
At the forest gate
They lead a round dance.
The aspen tree is chilling,
Trembling in the wind
It gets cold in the sun,
Freezing in the heat...
Give it to the aspen
Coat and boots,
Need to warm up
Poor aspen.
Cuckoo!
And I picked flowers
In the forest, on the shore.
The birch tree nodded to me,
The cuckoo crowed:
"Cuckoo!"
I saw a bunny -
He pressed himself against the stump.
I would have caught him -
The cuckoo scared:
"Cuckoo!"
In the great world
Many miracles:
Isn't the brooding forest a miracle?
With green grass and wild berries?
Glitter of emerald
Wings of beetles,
Blue Moth Cloak -
Isn't it a miracle?
More satisfying than lunch - two handfuls of blueberries,
Tastier than nectar is the water in the spring...
The path is lost in the faceless grasses,
Descending to the sky-filled river.
In the sunset rays, a flock of red feathers
Clouds float to the foggy east,
And slowly fade, and melt in the twilight...
They won't know how deep the night is.
And the damp straw smells like mold,
But this is the only sure place to stay for the night.
When we are far from our father's house,
And cold is warmth, and a moment is a century.
A curtain is woven from fragrant branches,
The pine trees do not allow the wind to reach the heart of the forest...
There in the cool silence there is a babbling stream,
Fresh and cool, clean and shiny...
And, timidly hiding in the coastal grass,
A snow-white lily of the valley looks into that stream,
And a strong curtain of branches protects
A dormant fairy tale - a fairy tale in the heart of the forest...
Infusion of strong herbs, mushrooms and berries
Suddenly there was a whiff of fishing line.
Choking on the heated moisture,
I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe from afar.
Oh, honey! When would I forget others,
I would only repeat these words!
Familiar, childishly expensive...
Mushrooms. Trees. Berries. Grass.
Make noise, make noise, green forest!
I know your majestic noise,
And your peace and the shine of heaven
Over your curly head.
Since childhood I have become accustomed to understanding
Your silence is mute
And your mysterious tongue
Like something close and dear.
How I loved it when sometimes
The beauty of nature
You argued with a strong thunderstorm
In moments of terrible weather,
When your big oaks
The dark peaks swayed
And hundreds of different voices
In your wilderness they called to each other...
Or when it's daylight
In the far west it shone
And the bright purple of fire
Your clothes were illuminated.
Meanwhile, in the wilderness of your trees
It was already night, and above you
Chain of colorful clouds
Stretched out in a motley ridge.
The sun lowers its rays into a plumb line,
And the streams of vapor tremble
At the edge of the bright skies;
Open your arms to me,
Dense, spreading forest!
So that in the face and in the hot chest
Your sigh flowed like a cold wave,
So that I too can breathe sweetly;
Let me touch you with my lips and eyes
At the roots I have the key to water!
So that I too disappear in this sea,
Drowned in that fragrant shadow,
What spread your lush canopy;
Open your arms to me,
Dense, spreading forest!
We are in the forest in summer
We picked raspberries
And every one to the top
Filled the basket.
We shouted to the forest
All in chorus: - Thank you!
And the forest answered us:
"Thank you, thank you!"
Then suddenly he swayed
sighed... and silence.
Probably near the forest
The tongue is tired.
Mom and I are mushrooms
Let's collect together.
Forest gifts
We put it in the basket.
Trees above us
They make a quiet noise
About something of your own
They talk among themselves.
We went to pick berries in the distant forest.
There are apparently miracles there!
We saw a red ant
We met a squirrel by the stream.
We found a little white fungus,
They carefully placed it in the box.
Well, you can’t even count the ripe berries!
As soon as we get home, we’ll start eating.
We would walk in the forest until the morning,
Yes, the evening is approaching - it’s time to sleep.
How cool it is in the spruce thicket!
I'm carrying flowers in my arms...
white-headed dandelion,
Do you feel good in the forest?
You grow at the very edge,
You are standing in the very heat.
The cuckoos are cuckooing over you.
Nightingales sing at dawn.
And the fragrant wind blows,
And drops leaves on the grass...
Dandelion, fluffy flower,
I'll tear you down quietly.
I'll rip you off, honey, can I?
And then I'll take it home. ...
The wind blew carelessly -
My dandelion flew around.
Look what a blizzard it is
In the middle of a hot day!
And the fluffs fly, sparkling,
On flowers, on grass, on me...
Irina Kletzbakh
Card index “Poems about forest and trees”
Card index of poems about forests and trees.
Ate at the edge of the forest
To the top of the sky -
They listen, they are silent,
They look at their grandchildren.
I. Tokmakova
Not a leaf, not a blade of grass!
Our garden became quiet.
And birches and aspens
The boring ones stand.
Only one Christmas tree
Cheerful and green.
Apparently she's not afraid of the cold,
Apparently she is brave.
O. Vysotskaya
The aspen tree is chilling,
Trembling in the wind
It gets cold in the sun,
Freezing in the heat...
Give it to the aspen
Coat and boots -
Need to warm up
Poor aspen.
I. Tokmakova
And on the hummocks under the aspen trees,
Celebrating the sunrise,
With ancient lamentations
The hares lead a round dance.
N. Zabolotsky
Near the river, at the cliff,
The willow is crying, the willow is crying.
Maybe she feels sorry for someone?
Maybe she's hot in the sun?
Maybe the wind is playful
Did you pull the willow's pigtail?
Maybe the willow is thirsty?
Maybe we should go ask?
I. Tokmakova
thick nettle
Noisy under the window,
Green willow
Hanged like a tent.
If you gave a birch a comb,
Birch would change her hairstyle.
Looking into the river, like looking into a mirror,
I would comb my curly strands,
And it would become a habit for her
Braid your hair in the morning.
I. Tokmakova
A thin birch tree, a teenager between the birches
A thin birch tree, a teenager between the birches,
On an April day he admires himself,
Looking into the blurry trail of big wheels,
Where the blue sky is reflected.
S. Marshak
The pines want to grow to the sky,
They want to sweep the sky with branches.
So that within a year
The weather was clear
I. Tokmakova
Meeting on the way
Everything blooms along the way. Spring
The present gives way to summer.
The pine tree extended its paw to me
With a reddish scaly color.
Pine color, breathing resin,
It wasn't very attractive to look at.
But I told the pine tree: “Good!”
And she seemed happy.
S. Marshak
A little red berry
Rowan gave me
I thought it was sweet
And she is like a hina.
Is it this berry?
I'm just not ripe
Is it the cunning rowan tree,
I wanted to make a joke.
I. Tokmakova
Boring painting!
Endless clouds
The rain keeps pouring down
Puddles by the porch.
Stunted rowan
Gets wet under the window
Looks village
A gray spot.
Why are you visiting early?
Has autumn come to us?
The heart still asks
Light and warmth.
A. Pleshcheev
Oak of rain and wind
Not afraid at all.
Who said that oak
Scared of catching a cold?
After all, until late autumn
It's green.
This means the oak is hardy,
So, hardened.
I. Tokmakova
The wind blows from the south,
The wind blows with a blizzard,
And it flies from the east,
But he won't break me!
Blow, winds, I'm not afraid -
After all, I’m called an oak!
M. Vainilaitis
Perhaps the first leaf fall
Meets this maple tree.
First time festive outfit
He exposed it to the wind.
Put on his bitches
Six leaves cut out.
They are red and wide
Just like the big ones.
V. Berestov
Dressed in the frost of the crown
Completely unexpected. In the morning
Glazed maple leaves
And they rang in the wind...
V. Potievsky
I've been walking in the forest since morning.
I was completely wet from the dew.
But now I know
About birch and moss.
About raspberries, blackberries,
About the hedgehog and about the hedgehog,
Who have hedgehogs
All the needles are shaking.
N. Matveeva
Mom and I are mushrooms
Let's collect together.
Forest gifts
We put it in the basket.
Trees above us
They make a quiet noise
About something of your own
They talk among themselves.
V. Kudlachev
At viburnum and rowan
Blackbirds fly in flocks.
Dahlias under the window
They are proud of their beauty.
E. Trutneva
If there are thunderstorms in the sky,
If the grass has bloomed,
If there is dew early in the morning
Blades of grass are bent to the ground,
If in the groves above the viburnum
Until the night the hum of bees,
If warmed by the sun
All the water in the river to the bottom, -
So it's already summer!
So spring is over!
E. Trutneva
Publications on the topic:
Children's poems about space and astronauts Children's poems about space and astronauts * The right profession Alexey Eroshin Today I firmly decided: I want to become an astronaut! I'm in a rocket.
Card index of finger games “Trees” Finger games on the theme “TREES” Trees Here are the trees: Maple, rowan, linden, Oak, birch, elm, Ash, poplar, spruce, fir, We are in.
Poems about kindergarten Teacher MBDOU kindergarten "YAGODKA" r. Karsun village, Ulyanovsk region. “My kids” I work with kids, surrounding them with care. I'm for them.
Poems for children. February 23. About men The twenty-third of February Inna Bakusheva The twenty-third of February is not called a holiday for nothing. This is a holiday for all men, and there is no reason for us to be sad.
Poems for children “About animals” Redhead. Inna Bakusheva In the morning, my mother and I walked into the garden, In a very heavy snowfall, There was a cat on the bench. Red-haired baby. All ruffled.
Fascinating and educational poems about the forest and forest inhabitants for older preschoolers.
Poems about the forest for older and older children preparatory group kindergarten
Poems for children 5-6 years old
In the forest
Like a fairy tale book page
The forest opened up, the leaves ringing.
I understand both the beast and the bird,
And they understand me.
Maybe on animal paths
In the impenetrable depths of the forest
Suddenly a hut on chicken legs
I'll meet you unexpectedly.
Maybe in this region, inadvertently,
Avoiding the roads
Glisten with a toasted side
Among the tall grass there is a bun.
And I can’t get lost in the forest,
At least I’m wandering away from people.
Because both animals and birds
They speak their native language.
Spring
In the wilderness of the forest, in the wilderness of green,
Always shady and damp,
In a steep ravine under the mountain,
A cold spring gushes out of the stones:
It boils, plays and hurries,
Spinning in crystal clubs,
And under the branchy oaks
It runs like molten glass.
And the heavens and the mountain forest
They look, thinking in silence,
Like pebbles in light moisture
Patterned mosaics tremble.
Away from home
More satisfying than lunch - two handfuls of blueberries,
The water in the spring is tastier than nectar...
The path is lost in the faceless grasses,
Descending to the sky-filled river.
In the sunset rays, a flock of red feathers
Clouds float to the foggy east,
And slowly fade, and melt in the twilight...
They won't know how deep the night is.
And the damp straw smells like mold,
But this is the only sure place to stay for the night.
When we are far from our father's house,
And cold is warmth, and a moment is a century.
Tale of the forest
A curtain is woven from fragrant branches,
The pine trees do not allow the wind to reach the heart of the forest...
There in the cool silence there is a babbling stream,
Fresh and cool, clean and shiny...
And, timidly hiding in the coastal grass,
A snow-white lily of the valley looks into that stream,
And a strong curtain of branches protects
A dormant fairy tale - a fairy tale in the heart of the forest...
Infusion of strong herbs, mushrooms and berries
Suddenly there was a whiff of fishing line.
Choking on the heated moisture,
I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe from afar.
Oh, honey! When would I forget others,
I would only repeat these words!
Familiar, childishly expensive...
Mushrooms. Trees. Berries. Grass.
Poems for children 6-7 years old
Forest
Make noise, make noise, green forest!
I know your majestic noise,
And your peace and the shine of heaven
Over your curly head.
Since childhood I have become accustomed to understanding
Your silence is mute
And your mysterious tongue
Like something close and dear.
How I loved it when sometimes
The beauty of nature
You argued with a strong thunderstorm
In moments of terrible weather,
When your big oaks
The dark peaks swayed
In your wilderness they called to each other...
Or when it's daylight
In the far west it shone
And the bright purple of fire
Your clothes were illuminated.
Meanwhile, in the wilderness of your trees
It was already night, and above you
Chain of colorful clouds
Stretched out in a motley ridge.
The sun lowers its rays into a plumb line,
And the streams of vapor tremble
At the edge of the bright skies;
Open your arms to me,
Dense, spreading forest!
So that in the face and in the hot chest
Your sigh flowed like a cold wave,
So that I too can breathe sweetly;
Let me touch you with my lips and eyes
At the roots I have the key to water!
So that I too disappear in this sea,
Drowned in that fragrant shadow,
What spread your lush canopy;
Open your arms to me,
Dense, spreading forest!
Corner
Be careful, don't break it
These silk threads.
The point is that I'm familiar
With this fast spider.
Leave your net at home;
The moth is my friend.
And this angry beetle -
My reliable old friend.
Don't fish in the river either.
There she is swimming, look
With a sharp red fin...
I know her very well.
A woodpecker drums loudly.
This woodpecker -
My friend.
And chirps often, often
Tit for me:
- Hello hello!
And the birch tree is familiar to me,
And clouds.
And another
None
I don't need a corner.
There is a corner in the dense forest,
And it’s not a sin for me to boast:
I know him better than anyone -
With mushrooms, with a spider net,
With a withered dry branch,
Crispy in the metacarpus and wrist,
With a hollow, where it’s dry and in bad weather,
At least drip from every leaf.
I could be swept out of the thicket
A helicopter buzzing in the sky,
But he disappeared... And the night does not wait,
And the moss is deep, the lichen is smoky...
There's lead in my legs, but in my soul
Easy, easy, sweet languor,
And what does it cost me, as if at home,
Stay in a hut.
I'll fall asleep, don't suffer from insomnia,
Even if the thunder thunders, like in war...
And it’s not palaces that I dream of,
And the same one - with a spider net,
With mushrooms, with a squirrel on a pine tree -
My corner in the dense forest.
In the forest
It was a little dawn, we went out with the box
A cloud floated by in a ruddy glow,
And the morning dewy chill
The depths of the forest breathed towards us.
Spread an intricate network
Deaf branches and came out onto the path.
Here's the first mushroom! How fun to watch
On a strong, squat leg,
On the red velvety cap!
And there is the second one, funny and handsome,
Hid under a dried leaf!
Blueberry bushes near shaggy stumps
They sparkle in the sun... So many ripe berries!
Here the rays flashed through the gold
Two butterflies on soft white wings...
We inhaled heather, resin,
They called out from the depths of the green...
Our wicker box has become heavy,
And we proudly carried it home!
Childhood
The hotter the day, the sweeter it is in the forest
Breathe in the dry, resinous aroma,
And I had fun in the morning
Wander through these sunny chambers!
Shine everywhere, bright light everywhere,
The sand is like silk... I’ll cling to the pine tree
And I feel: I’m only ten years old,
And the trunk is a giant, heavy, majestic.
The bark is rough, wrinkled, red,
But it’s so warm, so warmed up by the sun!
And it seems that the smell is not pine,
And the heat and dryness of sunlight.
On the hunt - in the summer (excerpt)
It's hot, excruciatingly hot... But the forest is not far away
green...
From the dusty, waterless fields we go there together
We enter... into the tired chest the fragrant flows
cool;
The acrid moisture of labor freezes on your hot face.
The emerald, fresh shadows received us kindly;
Quietly they jumped around, quietly on the soft grass
They whisper transparent, light greetings
The oriole screams loudly, as if marveling at the guests.
How gratifying it is in the forest! And the sun's softened strength
There is no fire here, the brilliance is alive.
Evening in the forest
It's getting dark. Birds in the grove
Stop tights.
Twilight wanders to the touch,
Spreading out my fingers.
Between the trees, shrouded in darkness,
They wander quietly without shadows,
Like a blind old man,
What a sorcerer and sorcerer.
What, driving slowly
With your dark hand,
Changes whimsically
The face of objects and things.
Whether you are on horseback or on foot,
Be baptized - and God be with you!
Every tree is a goblin,
Every stump is a forest stump.
The aspen sobbed like a witch,
The root arched like a snake...
Every step is devilry,
Whatever the sound is, it’s crazy.
Smells of dampness,
Fears stick like burrs.
To a familiar edge
Get out quickly!
The moon looks askance like an owl,
The day is flying by...
Black and brown fox
Night crawls out of the hole.
Around the bend
Wary, on the alert
At the entrance to the thicket,
The bird chirps at the bitch
Easy, inviting.
She chirps and sings
On the threshold of the forest,
As if protecting the entrance
In forest holes.
Under it there are branches, a windfall,
There are clouds above her
In a forest ravine around the corner
Keys and turn.
A pile of stumps and logs
There is dead wood lying around.
In the water and cold of the swamps
Snowdrop blossoms.
And the bird believes as if in a vow,
To your roulades
And he doesn’t let you cross the threshold
Who is not needed.
Around the bend, in the depths
forest ravine,
The future is ready for me
More than a deposit.
You can't drag him into an argument anymore
And you won’t get it.
It's wide open like a forest
Everything deep, everything wide open.
B.L.Pasternak
Forest coolness
The forest and the clear azure sky look
Like spring in bright waters rivers
In the flood meadows, thin steam turns golden,
And the fishermen shine, and the waders scream.
The forest is green all around, young and dewy,
And in the forest there is silence, and among the silence
Only the voice of the cuckoo. Vociferous prophet!
- Answer me, will I live to see the new spring?
And will I come again to this forest, drunk?
The aroma of spring and the shine of rays,
Will I again count in the thicket of dark, green,
How many bright days do I still have left?
Will I listen to you again with deep sadness,
With secret sadness in my soul as the years pass,
That I love the whole world, but I love it alone,
Lonely everywhere and always?
I.A.Bunin
Trees (9)
What inspiration
What truths
What are you making noise about?
Leaf spills?
How frantic
Sibyls with mysteries -
What are you making noise about?
What are you unconscious about?
What's your trend?
But I know - treat
The Resentment of Time -
The coolness of Eternity.
But a young genius
Revolt - defame
The lie of seeing
The finger of absentia.
So that again, as before,
The earth seemed to us.
So that under the eyelids
Plans were accomplished.
To coins
Miracles - don't be arrogant!
So that under the eyelids
The sacraments were performed!
And away from strength!
And away from urgency!
Into the flow! -- In prophecies
With indirect speeches...
Are foliage leaves?
Did the Sibyl groan?
...Avalanches are deciduous,
Deciduous ruins...
M.I. Tsvetaeva
Forest
Make noise, make noise, green forest!
I know your majestic noise,
And your peace and the shine of heaven
Over your curly head.
Since childhood I have become accustomed to understanding
Your silence is mute
And your mysterious tongue
Like something close and dear.
How I loved it when sometimes
The beauty of nature
You argued with a strong thunderstorm
In moments of terrible weather,
when your oaks are big
The dark peaks swayed
In your wilderness they called to each other...
Or when it's daylight
In the far west it shone
And the bright purple of fire
Your clothes were illuminated.
Meanwhile, in the wilderness of your trees
It was already night, and above you
Chain of colorful clouds
Stretched out in a motley ridge.
And here I come again
To you with my fruitless longing,
Again I look at your twilight
And maybe in your wilderness,
Like a prisoner brought to life by will,
I will forget the sorrow of my soul
And the bitterness of everyday life.
I.S.Nikitin
Morning
There is a mountain of silver underfoot in the forest.
There are battalions of black trees,
There are fir trees like peaks, maples like gunshots,
Their roots are like kingpins, their branches are like rafters,
The winds caress them, the luminaries shine for them.
There are woodpeckers, swinging on a damp oak tree,
They cut you down with their ax in the morning
Moody notes from the book of oak forests,
Tucked short heads into shoulders.
Born of the desert
The sound fluctuates
Blue wavers
There's a spider on a thread.
The air vibrates
Transparent and clean
In the shining stars
The leaf sways.
And the birds, dressed in light helmets,
Sitting on the gate of a forgotten poem,
And the girl plays naked in the river
And looks at the sky, laughing and blinking.
The rooster crows, it's dawn, it's time!
There is a mountain of silver underfoot in the forest.
ON THE. Zabolotsky
***
My quiet sleep, my every minute sleep -
Invisible, enchanted forest,
Where there is some vague rustling noise,
Like the wondrous rustle of silk curtains.
In crazy meetings and vague disputes,
At the crossroads of surprised eyes
An invisible and incomprehensible rustle,
It flared up under the ashes and has already gone out.
And how the fog covers the faces,
And the word freezes on my lips,
And it seems like a frightened bird
Darted in the evening bushes.
O.E. Mandelstam
Noon
I'm leaving in the hot afternoon
On vacation idle in the dark forest
And there I lie down, and I keep looking
Between the peaks to the distance of heaven.
And the gazes endlessly drown
In their blue distance;
And the forest is noisy all around,
And there are conversations in it:
A bird chirps, a beetle buzzes,
And the dried leaf rustles,
Falling on brushwood by chance, -
And the sounds are all so full of mystery...
At that time I had a strange feeling
It sweetly embraces the whole soul;
Lost in the blue heights,
She listens to the forest roar
And in some kind of oblivion he dozes.
N.P. Ogarev
Pines
In the grass, among the wild balsams,
Daisies and forest baths,
We lie with our arms thrown back
And raised my head to the sky.
Grass on a pine clearing
Impenetrable and dense.
We'll look at each other - and again
We change poses and places.
And so, immortal for a while,
We are numbered among the pine trees
And from diseases, epidemics
And death is freed.
With deliberate monotony,
Like an ointment, thick blue
Lies bunnies on the ground
And gets our sleeves dirty.
We share the rest of the red forest,
Under the creeping goosebumps
Pine sleeping pills mixture
Lemon with incense breathing.
And so frantic on blue
Running fire trunks,
And we won’t take our hands off for so long
From under broken heads,
And so much breadth in the gaze,
And everything is so submissive from the outside,
That somewhere behind the trunks there is a sea
I see it all the time.
There are waves above these branches,
And, falling off the boulder,
Shrimp rain down
From the troubled bottom.
And in the evenings behind a tug
Dawn stretches on the traffic jams
And leaks fish oil
And the hazy haze of amber.
It gets dark, and gradually
The moon buries all traces
Under the white magic of foam
And the black magic of water.
And the waves are getting louder and higher,
And the audience is on the float
Crowds around a post with a poster,
Indistinguishable from a distance.
B.L.Pasternak
Bor
Everyone who comes out into the open in the morning,
A hundred gates call to the pine forest.
Between tall and straight trunks
A hundred gates call for pine shelter.
Twilight and heat stand in the forest.
Resins ooze through the bark.
And you will go into the forest and wilderness,
The dry land smells like formic alcohol.
In more often anthills do not sleep -
They move, sway, boil.
Let the squirrels flash overhead,
Like arrows, from pine to pine.
I have known this forest for half a century.
I was a child, I became an old man.
And now I wander, as if in the footsteps,
According to my boyhood years.
But, as before, for me theirs -
Needles, cones, squirrels, ants.
And me, as in childhood, still
A hundred gates call to the pine forest.
S.Ya.Marshak
Bright color of forest carnation.
Spicy smell of bitter herbs.
The sun's glare fell,
Pine needles pierced.
It's stuffy. The rocks are heating up
Smolny air is motionless,
The clouds have stopped
And they disperse like smoke...
All covered in dust, stubble sticking out
Roadside horsetail.
There's a deserted buzz above the foliage
The singing of the May Khrushchev.
A heavy bag has been thrown off my shoulders,
The gaze goes far...
And your shoulder hits the bare stone
Easy to lean on.
In the depths of the damp forest
So cool and dark.
Green canopy shadow
The secret was thrown to the bottom.
In the intransitive silence
The beetles rustle the grass a little.
Good for cold moss
Lie down with a tired head!
And, closing my eyes, blissfully
Go into the silence of the forest
And understand that everything is forgotten,
Everything you hide in your memory.
Sasha Cherny
Forest sketch
Pine forests. The road is fawn.
I'm sitting in a spruce forest, lighting a fire.
I sit until the evening, cutting wood...
The green birch foliage rustles...
Angry bee over anthills,
Over fly agarics and over thistles
It buzzes and spins, exhausted by evil...
Coniferous trees. The road is clay.
I. Severyanin
For mushrooms
Let's go mushroom hunting.
Highway. Forests. Ditches.
Road pillars
Left and right.
From the wide highway
We go into the darkness of the forest.
Up to your ankles in dew
We wander in all directions.
And the sun is under the bushes
On milk mushrooms and waves
Through the wilds of darkness
Throws light from the edge.
The mushroom is hiding behind a stump.
A bird lands on a stump.
Our shadow is a landmark for us,
So as not to go astray.
But the time is September
Measured out like this:
It's barely dawn before us
Reach through the thicket.
The boxes are full,
The baskets are filled.
Just boletus
For a good half.
Let's leave. Behind the back
The forest is motionless like a wall,
Where is the day in earthly beauty
It burned down suddenly.
B.L.Pasternak
Forest in autumn
Between the thinning tops
Blue appeared.
Made a noise at the edges
Bright yellow foliage.
You can't hear the birds. Small cracks
Broken branch
And, flashing its tail, a squirrel
The light one makes the jump.
The spruce tree has become more noticeable in the forest -
Protects dense shade.
The last aspen boletus
He pulled his hat on one side.
A.T. Tvardovsky
