Fascinating and informative poems about the forest and forest dwellers for older preschoolers.
Poems about the forest for older children and preparatory group kindergarten
Poems for children 5-6 years old
In the woods
Like a fairy tale book page
The forest opened, ringing with foliage.
I understand both the beast and the bird,
And they understand me.
Maybe on the paths of animals
In the impenetrable forest depths
Suddenly a hut on chicken legs
Meet me unexpectedly.
Maybe in this region, inadvertently,
Avoiding the roads
Shine with a toasted side
A bun in the middle of tall grass.
And I can't get lost in the forest
Though I wander from people far away.
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 beats from stones:
Boils, plays and hurries,
Spinning in crystal clubs,
And under the branchy oaks
Runs like molten glass.
And the heavens and the mountainous forest
They look, thinking in silence,
As in light moisture naked
They tremble with a patterned mosaic.
Far from home
More satisfying than lunch - two handfuls of blueberries,
Tastier than nectar is water in a spring...
The path is lost in the faceless grasses,
Down to the sky-filled river.
In the sunset rays of a red-feathered flock
Clouds float to the misty east,
And slowly fade, and melt in the twilight...
They won't know how deep the night is.
And damp straw smells of mold,
But this is the only true lodging for the night.
When we are far from our father's house,
And cold is warm, and a moment is a century.
fairy tale forest
A veil is woven from fragrant branches,
Pine trees do not let the wind to the heart of the forest...
There, in the cool silence, there is a babbling stream,
Fresh and cool, clean and shiny...
And, fearfully hiding in the coastal grass,
A snow-white lily of the valley looks into that stream,
And keeps a strong curtain of branches
A dormant fairy tale - a fairy tale in the heart of the forest...
Infusion of strong herbs, mushrooms and berries
Suddenly, a line wafted from that.
Heated choking with moisture,
I breathe, I do not breathe from afar.
Ah, honey! When to forget others
I would only repeat these words!
Habitual, childishly expensive ...
Mushrooms. Trees. Berries. Grass.
Poems for children 6-7 years old
Forest
Noise, noise, green forest!
I know your majestic noise,
And your peace, and the brilliance of heaven
Above your curly head.
I used to understand since childhood
Your silence is silent
And your mysterious tongue
Like something close.
How I loved when sometimes
The beauty of gloomy nature,
You argued with a strong thunderstorm
In moments of terrible bad weather,
When your big oaks
The dark peaks swayed
In your wilderness they called to each other ...
Or when it was daylight
Shining in the far west
And bright purple fire
Illuminated your clothes.
Meanwhile, in the wilderness of your trees
It was already night, and above you
A chain of colorful clouds
Stretched in a motley ridge.
The sun will lower its rays into a plumb line,
And jet fumes tremble
At the outskirts of bright skies;
Open your arms for me
Thick, spreading forest!
So that in the face and in the hot chest
Your breath gushed like a cold wave,
So that I can breathe sweetly;
Let your mouth and eyes cling
At the roots I have a key to the water!
So that I disappear into this sea,
Drowned in that fragrant shadow
What spread your magnificent canopy;
Open your arms for me
Thick, spreading forest!
corner
Be careful don't break
Those silk threads.
The point is that I know
With this fast spider.
Leave your net at home;
Moth is my friend.
And this angry beetle -
My trusty old friend.
Don't fish in the river either.
There she floats, look,
With a sharp red fin...
I know her very well.
A woodpecker is drumming loudly.
This dude -
My friend.
And chirps often-often
I'm a tit:
- Hello hello!
And the birch 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 brag:
I know him best
With mushrooms, with a spider seine,
With a withered branch of dried wood,
Crispy in the pastern and wrist
With a hollow, where it is dry and in bad weather,
At least drip from each leaf.
I could be wiped out of the thicket
Helicopter flying in the sky
But he disappeared ... And the night does not wait,
And the moss is deep, the lichens are smoky...
There is lead in the legs, but in the soul
Easy, easy, sweet languor,
And what does it cost me, like at home,
Settle in a hut.
I’ll fall asleep, we don’t suffer from insomnia,
Though the thunder rumbles, as in a war ...
And I will not dream of palaces,
And the same one with a spider net,
With mushrooms, with a squirrel on a pine -
My corner in the dense forest.
In the woods
It dawned a little, we went out with a box
In a ruddy brilliance, a cloud floated by,
And dewy morning chill
The depths of the forest breathed towards us.
Spread an intricate network
Deaf branches and went out onto the path.
Here is the first mushroom! How fun to watch
On a strong, squat leg,
On a red velvety cap!
And there is the second, funny and handsome,
Hiding under a dried leaf!
Blueberry bushes near hairy stumps
Shine in the sun ... How many ripe berries!
Here flashed in the golden rays
Two butterflies on pale white wings...
We breathed in heather, resin,
Hung out from the depths of the green...
Our wicker box was heavy,
And proudly we carried it home!
Childhood
The hotter the day, the sweeter in the forest
Breathe the dry resinous scent
And I had fun in the morning
Roam these sunny chambers!
Shine everywhere, bright light everywhere
Sand is like silk ... I cling to the pine
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 it is not pine that smells,
And the heat and dryness of the sunlight.
On the hunt - in the summer (excerpt)
It's hot, painfully hot... But the forest is not far away
green...
From dusty, waterless fields we go there together
We enter ... fragrant pours into a tired chest
cool;
The caustic moisture of labor freezes on a hot face.
Emerald, fresh shadows received us affectionately;
Quietly jumped around, quietly on the soft grass
Whispering greeting speeches are transparent, light
Oriole screams loudly, as if marveling at the guests.
What a joy it is to be in the woods! And the sun's softened strength
Here it does not blaze with fire, it plays with brilliance alive.
Evening in the forest
It's evening. Birds in the grove
Stop pantyhose.
Twilight wanders to the touch,
Spreading five.
Between the trees, enveloped in mist,
Wandering silently without shadows
Like a blind old man
What a sorcerer and sorcerer.
What, driving slowly
With his dark hand,
Changes whimsically
The face of objects and things.
Whether you are on horseback or on foot,
Get baptized - and God be with you!
Whatever a tree is a goblin,
Whatever the stump is forest.
The aspen sobbed like a witch,
The root is bent like a snake...
Every step is damn
Whatever sound is crazy.
Pulls dampness perfume,
Fear sticks like burdock.
To the familiar edge
Choose quickly!
Month owl squinting,
The day flies to hell...
Black and brown fox
Night crawls out of the hole.
around the corner
Alert, alert
At the entrance to the thicket
A bird chirps on a bitch
Easy, enticing.
She chirps and sings
On the eve of boron,
As if protecting the entrance
In forest burrows.
Under it are branches, windbreak,
Clouds above her
In the forest ravine around the corner
Keys and twists.
A heap of stumps, decks
The deadwood is lying.
In the water and cold of the marshes
Snowdrop blooms.
And the bird believes, as in a vow,
Into your rolls
And does not let you over the threshold
Who is not needed.
Around the bend, in the depths
forest log,
The future is ready for me
Return the deposit.
You can't drag him into an argument anymore.
And you won't make it.
It's open like a boron
All deep, all wide open.
B.L. Pasternak
forest coolness
The forest, and the clear azure sky looks
In the spring in the bright waters of the river
In the meadows of the flood, thin steam is golden,
And fishing shine, and 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. The vociferous bastard!
- Respond, will I live until the new spring?
And will I come again to this forest, drunk
The aroma of spring and the brilliance of rays,
Will I count again in the thicket dark, green,
How many bright days do I have left?
Will I again listen to you with deep sadness,
With a secret sadness in my soul that the years pass,
That I love the whole world, but I love lonely,
Lonely everywhere and always?
I.A. Bunin
Trees (9)
What inspiration
What truths
What are you making noise about?
Spills deciduous?
What a frantic
Sibyls with mysteries -
What are you making noise about?
What are you mindless about?
What is in your trend?
But I know - treat
Resentment of Time -
Coolness of Eternity.
But the young genius
Rebellion - denigrate
lies of sight
The finger of absentia.
So that again, as before,
The earth seemed to us.
To under the eyelids
Plans were completed.
To coins
Miracles - do not boast!
To under the eyelids
The mysteries have been completed!
And away from strength!
And away from urgency!
Into the stream! -- In Prophecy
Indirect speech...
Are leaves leaves?
Did the Sibyl groan?
... Deciduous avalanches,
Leafy ruins...
M.I. Tsvetaeva
Forest
Noise, noise, green forest!
I know your majestic noise,
And your peace, and the brilliance of heaven
Above your curly head.
I used to understand since childhood
Your silence is silent
And your mysterious tongue
Like something close.
How I loved when sometimes
The beauty of gloomy nature,
You argued with a strong thunderstorm
In moments of terrible bad weather,
when your big oaks
The dark peaks swayed
In your wilderness they called to each other ...
Or when it was daylight
Shining in the far west
And bright purple fire
Illuminated your clothes.
Meanwhile, in the wilderness of your trees
It was already night, and above you
A chain of colorful clouds
Stretched in a motley ridge.
And here I come again
To you with my barren longing,
Again I look at your dusk
And maybe in your wilderness
Like a prisoner animated by will,
I will forget the sorrow of my soul
And the bitterness of everyday life.
I.S. Nikitin
Morning
In the forest under the feet of a mountain of silver.
There are battalions of black trees,
There are trees like peaks, like shots - maples,
Their roots are like pivots, knots are like rafters,
The winds caress them, the luminaries shine on them.
There are woodpeckers, swinging on oak cheese,
In the morning they cut down with their ax
Gloomy notes from the book of oak forests,
Taking short heads into the shoulders.
Born of the desert
The sound oscillates
fluctuates blue
Spider on a thread.
The air oscillates
Transparent and pure
In shining stars
The leaf is shaking.
And the birds, dressed in bright helmets,
They sit on the gates of a forgotten poem,
And the girl in the river plays naked
And looks at the sky, laughing and blinking.
The rooster sings, it's getting light, it's time!
In the forest under the feet of a mountain of silver.
ON THE. Zabolotsky
***
My quiet sleep, my dream every minute -
Invisible, enchanted forest,
Where some vague rustle is worn,
Like the wondrous rustle of silk veils.
In crazy meetings and vague disputes,
At the crossroads of wondering eyes
Invisible and incomprehensible rustle,
Under the ashes flared up and already went out.
And how mist dresses the faces,
And the word freezes on the lips
And it seems like a frightened bird
I darted through the evening bushes.
O.E. Mandelstam
Noon
I'm leaving in the hot afternoon
To rest idle in the dark forest
And there I lay down, and I look all
Between the peaks in the distance of heaven.
And endlessly drowning eyes
In their blue distance;
And the forest rustles around,
And it talks:
A bird is chirping, a beetle is buzzing,
And the dried leaf rustles,
Falling on brushwood by chance, -
And the sounds are all so full of mystery...
At that time a strange feeling to me
Sweetly embraces the whole soul;
Lost in the blue sky
She listens to the forest rumble
And in oblivion some slumbers.
N.P. Ogarev
Pines
In the grass, among the wild balsams,
Daisies and forest baths,
We lie with our arms outstretched
And lift your head to the sky.
Grass on a pine clearing
Impassable and dense.
We look at each other - and again
We change positions and places.
And now, immortal for a while,
We are numbered among the pines
And from diseases, epidemics
And death is released.
With deliberate uniformity,
Like an ointment, deep blue
Lies like bunnies on the ground
And dirty our sleeves.
We share the rest of the redwoods,
Under the swarm of ants
Pine sleeping pill mixture
Lemon with incense breathing.
And so frantic on the blue
Runaway fire barrels,
And we won't take out our hands for so long
From broken heads
And so much breadth in the eyes
And so submissively everything from the outside,
That somewhere behind the trunks of the sea
Seems to me all the time.
There are waves above these branches,
And falling off the boulder
Bring down a hail of shrimp
From the churned bottom.
And in the evenings in tow
Dawn stretches on traffic jams
And oozes fish oil
And hazy haze of amber.
It's getting dark, and gradually
The moon buries all traces
Under white foam magic
And the black magic of water.
And the waves are getting louder and higher
And the public on the float
Crowds at a post with a poster,
Indistinguishable from afar.
B.L. Pasternak
Bor
Everyone who goes out into the open in the morning,
One hundred gates are called to the pine forest.
Between tall and straight trunks
One hundred gates are called under coniferous shelter.
Twilight and heat stand in the forest.
Resins seep through the bark.
And you will go into the forest distance and wilderness,
Dryness smells like ant alcohol.
In more often anthills do not sleep -
They wiggle, they sway, they boil.
Yes, squirrels flicker in the sky,
Like arrows, from pine to pine.
This forest has been familiar to me for half a century.
I was a child, I became an old man.
And now I wander, as if in the footsteps,
For my boyhood years.
But, as before, for me my own -
Needles, bumps, squirrels, ants.
And me, as in childhood, still
One hundred gates are called to the pine forest.
S.Ya.Marshak
Bright forest carnation color.
Spicy smell of bitter herbs.
The rays of the sun fell,
Pine needles pierced.
Stuffy. The rocks heated up
Smolny air is motionless,
The clouds have stopped
And vanish like smoke...
All covered in dust, bristles sticking out
Roadside horsetail.
Desert buzzes above the foliage
The song of the May Khrushchev.
Dropped from the shoulders of a heavy bag,
The eye goes far...
And a bare shoulder on a stone
It leans on easily.
In the depths of the damp forest
So cool and dark.
The shade of the green canopy
Threw the secret to the bottom.
In the silence of intransitive
The beetles rustle a little in the grass.
Good for cold moss
Lie down with a tired head!
And closing your eyes, blissfully
Go into the silence of the forest
And understand that everything is forgotten
Everything that you keep in your memory.
Sasha Black
forest sketch
Pine forests. Pale road.
I am sitting in a spruce forest, kindling a fire.
I sit until the evening, cutting firewood ...
Rustling green birch foliage...
An angry bee over anthills,
Over fly agarics and over burdocks
Buzzing and spinning, exhausted by evil ..
Coniferous trees. Clay road.
I. Severyanin
By mushrooms
Let's go for mushrooms.
Highway. Forests. Ditches.
road poles
Left and right.
From the wide highway
We go into the darkness of the forest.
Ankle-deep in dew
We stray.
And the sun under the bushes
On milk mushrooms and waves
Through the wilds of darkness
Throws light from the edge.
The mushroom hides behind a stump.
A bird sits on a stump.
Our shadow is a milestone for us,
To keep from going astray.
But time in September
Measured like this:
Barely before us dawn
Reach through the thicket.
Boxes full of
Baskets filled.
Some mushrooms
A good half.
We're leaving. Behind the back
The forest is motionless with a wall,
Where is the day in the beauty of the earth
Burned out quickly.
B.L. Pasternak
Forest in autumn
Between thinning tops
Blue appeared.
Noisy at the edges
Bright yellow foliage.
Birds are not heard. Crack small
broken knot,
And, with a flickering tail, a squirrel
Easy makes a jump.
The spruce in the forest became more noticeable -
Protects deep shade.
Boletus last
He pushed his hat to one side.
A.T. Tvardovsky
Irina Kletsbakh
Card file "Poems about the forest and trees"
Card file of poems about the forest and trees.
Spruce on the edge
To the top of the sky -
Listen, be silent
Look at grandchildren.
I. Tokmakova
Not a leaf, not a blade of grass!
Our garden has become quiet.
And birches and aspens
Boring stand.
Only one Christmas tree
Cheerful and green.
It can be seen that she is not afraid of frost,
Apparently she is brave.
O. Vysotskaya
Aspen chills,
Trembling in the wind
Freezes in the sun
Freezing in the heat...
Give Aspen
Coat and boots -
Gotta warm up
Poor donkey.
I. Tokmakova
And on the bumps under the aspens,
Sun celebrating sunrise
With ancient lamentations
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
Pulled a willow by a pigtail?
Maybe the willow is thirsty?
Maybe we should go ask?
I. Tokmakova
dense nettle
Noisy under the window
green willow
She hung like a tent.
If they gave a birch a comb,
I would change my birch hair.
In the river, as if looking into a mirror,
I would comb curly strands,
And it would become a habit
Braid your hair in the morning.
I. Tokmakova
A thin birch, a teenager between birches
A thin birch, a teenager between birches,
On an April day, he admires himself,
Looking into the blurry track of the big wheels,
Where the sky is blue.
S. Marshak
Pines want to grow to the sky,
They want to sweep the sky with branches.
So that during the year
The weather was clear
I. Tokmakova
En route meeting
Everything blooms along the way. Spring
This is replaced by summer.
The pine tree extended its paw to me
With reddish scaly color.
Pine color, breathing resin,
It wasn't very attractive to look at.
But I said to the pine: "Good!"
And she seemed happy.
S. Marshak
red berry
Rowan gave me
I thought it was sweet
And she is like a hen.
Is this berry
Just not mature
Is it a sly mountain ash,
I wanted to joke.
I. Tokmakova
boring painting!
Clouds without end
The rain is pouring down
Puddles on the porch.
stunted rowan
Wet under the window
Looks small village
Gray spot.
What are you visiting early
Autumn, come to us?
Still asks the heart
Light and warmth.
A. Pleshcheev
rain and wind oak
Not afraid at all.
Who said that oak
Scared to catch a cold?
After all, until late autumn
It stands green.
So the oak is hardy,
So it's hardened.
I. Tokmakova
The wind is blowing from the south
The wind blows with a blizzard,
And flies from the east
But he won't break me!
Blow, winds - I'm not afraid -
I call myself an oak after all!
M. Vainilaitis
Perhaps the first leaf fall
Meets this maple.
First time holiday outfit
He exposed the wind.
Put on his bitches
Six cut out leaves.
They are red and wide
Just like the big ones.
V. Berestov
Dressed in frosty crowns
Quite unexpected. In the morning
Glazed maple leaves
And chimed in the wind...
V. Potievsky
I have been walking in the forest since morning.
I was soaked with dew.
But now I know
About birch and about moss.
About raspberries, blackberries,
About the hedgehog and about the hedgehog
Who have a hedgehog
All needles are trembling.
N. Matveeva
Mom and I are mushrooms
We collect together.
forest gifts
We put it in the basket.
Trees above us
Quietly making noise
About something of my own
They talk among themselves.
V. Kudlachev
At viburnum and rowan
Thrushes curl in flocks.
Under the dahlia window
Be proud of your beauty.
E. Trutneva
If there are thunderstorms in the sky
If the grasses bloomed
If early morning dew
Blades of grass are bent to the ground,
If in the groves above the viburnum
Until the night, the rumble 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
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Mom and I are mushrooms
We collect together.
forest gifts
We put it in the basket.
Trees above us
Quietly making noise
About something of my own
They talk among themselves.
V. Kudlachev
In the woods
We went for berries to a distant forest.
Apparently there are miracles!
We saw a red ant,
We met a squirrel by the stream.
We found a little white fungus,
They put it carefully in a container.
Well, ripe berries can't be counted!
When we return home, we will eat.
We would walk in the forest until the morning,
Evening is approaching - it's time to sleep.
N. Sakonskaya
In the woods
I have been walking in the forest since morning.
I was soaked with dew.
But now I know
About birch and about moss.
About raspberries, blackberries,
About the hedgehog and about the hedgehog
Who have a hedgehog
All needles are trembling.
N. Matveeva
Forest
Hello forest!
Dense forest,
Full of fairy tales and wonders!
What are you making noise about?
On a dark, stormy night,
What are you whispering to us at dawn
All in dew, as in silver?
Who is hiding in your wilderness?
What kind of animal? What bird?
Open everything, do not hide:
You see, we are ours.
S. Pogorelovskiy
The forest fills the basket with mushrooms
And in reserve
Leaves a little...
After all, the animals of the forest
They eat mushrooms
Therefore greedy
Entry into the forest is prohibited!
V. Shulzhik
forest family
Above a river
The maple rose
And underneath it
From all sides,
Maple trees have grown:
Daughters and sons.
V. Orlov
Good for us in the forest!
As soon as I entered the bushes -
Boletus found,
Two chanterelles, boletus
And a green flywheel.
prickly hedgehog in front of me
Ran to his house.
Two titmouse in silence
They sang songs to me loudly.
I wandered far
Got blueberries there.
I'm taking everything home now.
Good for us in the forest!
G. Ladonshchikov
Our forest
He's not low, he's not high
Green, bright is our forest.
We, when we began to study
In that forest they counted:
Eight thick pines,
Five young birches
Seven small aspens,
Nine pine sisters.
Well in the forest like this -
Each bush is familiar to us.
Only once burned:
Poor Valya got lost.
A. Prokofiev
mushroom forest
I call you to the mushroom forest
Quiet autumn morning.
You see, under the feet of foliage
They threw trees at us.
It was summer and gone
Song, sultry.
Now it's light in the forest
Stricter and calmer.
Only a squirrel in sight -
Covered all the corners
vitamin food
Stocking up for the winter.
Under the trunks of two oaks
Let's pray a little.
Let's bring mushrooms home
Full bowl.
Ya Akim
ate
Ate on the edge -
To the top of the sky -
They listen, they are silent.
Look at grandchildren.
And the grandchildren are Christmas trees,
Fine needles -
At the forest gate
They lead a round dance.
I. Tokmakova
In the great world
Many wonders:
Isn't it a miracle brooding forest
With green grass and wild berries?
Glitter emerald
beetle wings,
Cloak of blue moths -
Isn't it a miracle?
G. Galina
Self-assembly tablecloth
Paints early
The sun is the edge of heaven
Self-assembly tablecloth
Spreads the forest.
Enough treats
He has for everyone:
sweet roots,
Honey, mushrooms, nuts.
T. Shorygina
In the woods
Blush in the sun
pine trunks,
Spreads everywhere
Resin smell;
And white lilies of the valley
The brushes are hanging;
How thin and gentle
Their fragrance.
I'm walking through the forest
I sing a song
And listen to the pines
My song.
Through thick branches
The sun looks;
Finch in response to me
The song is ringing...
I. Belousov
In the woods
Like a fairy tale book page
The forest opened, ringing with foliage.
I understand both the beast and the bird,
And they understand me.
Maybe on the paths of animals
In the impenetrable forest depths
Suddenly a hut on chicken legs
Meet me unexpectedly.
Maybe in this region, inadvertently,
Avoiding the roads
Shine with a toasted side
A bun in the middle of tall grass.
And I can't get lost in the forest
Though I wander from people far away.
Because both animals and birds
They speak their native language.
V. Orlov
Forest
Noise, noise, green forest!
I know your majestic noise,
And your peace, and the brilliance of heaven
Overhead curly.
I used to understand since childhood
Your silence is dumb
And your mysterious tongue
Like something close.
How I loved when sometimes
The beauty of gloomy nature,
You argued with a strong thunderstorm
In moments of terrible bad 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 was daylight
Shining in the far west
And bright purple fire
Illuminated your clothes.
Meanwhile, in the wilderness of your trees
It was already night, and above you
A chain of colorful clouds
Stretched in a motley ridge.
I. Nikitin
The sun will lower its rays into a plumb line,
And jet fumes tremble
At the outskirts of bright skies;
Open your arms for me
Thick, spreading forest!
So that in the face and in the hot chest
Your breath gushed like a cold wave,
So that I can breathe sweetly;
Let your mouth and eyes cling
At the roots I have a key to the water!
So that I disappear into this sea,
Drowned in that fragrant shadow
What spread your magnificent canopy;
Open your arms for me
Dense, spreading forest!
A. Fet
In the woods
A little dawn, we went out with a box.
In a ruddy brilliance, a cloud floated by,
And dewy morning chill
The depths of the forest breathed towards us.
Spread an intricate network
Deaf branches and went out onto the path.
Here is the first mushroom! How fun to watch
On a strong, squat leg,
On a red velvety cap!
And there is the second, funny and handsome,
Hiding under a dried leaf!
Blueberry bushes near hairy stumps
Shine in the sun ... How many ripe berries!
Here flashed in the golden rays
Two butterflies on pale white wings ...
We breathed in heather, resin,
Hung out from the depths of the green ...
Our wicker box was heavy,
And proudly we carried it home!
M. Pozharova
Hello, forest, dense forest,
Full of fairy tales and wonders!
What are you making noise about?
Dark, stormy night?
What are you whispering at dawn,
All in dew as in silver?
Who is hiding in your wilderness?
What kind of animal? What bird?
Open everything, do not hide:
You see - we are ours!
The firs look like
snarky,
Their paws are covered
thorns,
Yes, the thorns are not evil at the fir,
You can even pet them.
Ate on the edge -
To the top of the sky -
Listen, be silent
Look at grandchildren.
And grandchildren - Christmas trees,
thin needles -
At the forest gate
They lead a round dance.
Aspen chills,
Trembling in the wind
Freezes in the sun
Freezing in the heat...
Give Aspen
coat and boots,
Gotta get warm
Poor donkey.
Ku-ku!
And I picked flowers
In the forest, on the coast.
Birch nodded to me,
The cuckoo cuckooed:
"Ku-ku!"
I saw a bunny -
He clung to the stump.
I would have caught him
The cuckoo scared
"Ku-ku!"
In the great world
Many wonders:
Isn't it a miracle brooding forest
With green grass and wild berries?
Glitter emerald
beetle wings,
Cloak of blue moths -
Isn't it a miracle?
More satisfying than lunch - two handfuls of blueberries,
Tastier than nectar - water in a spring ...
The path is lost in the faceless grasses,
Down to the sky-filled river.
In the sunset rays of a red-feathered flock
Clouds float to the misty east,
And slowly fade, and melt in the twilight...
They won't know how deep the night is.
And damp straw smells of mold,
But this is the only true lodging for the night.
When we are far from our father's house,
And cold is warm, and a moment is a century.
A veil is woven from fragrant branches,
Pine trees do not let the wind to the heart of the forest...
There, in the cool silence, there is a babbling stream,
Fresh and cool, clean and shiny...
And, fearfully hiding in the coastal grass,
A snow-white lily of the valley looks into that stream,
And keeps a strong curtain of branches
A dormant fairy tale - a fairy tale in the heart of the forest...
Infusion of strong herbs, mushrooms and berries
Suddenly, a line wafted from that.
Heated choking with moisture,
I breathe, I do not breathe from afar.
Ah, honey! When to forget others
I would only repeat these words!
Habitual, childishly expensive ...
Mushrooms. Trees. Berries. Grass.
Noise, noise, green forest!
I know your majestic noise,
And your peace, and the brilliance of heaven
Above your curly head.
I used to understand since childhood
Your silence is silent
And your mysterious tongue
Like something close.
How I loved when sometimes
The beauty of gloomy nature,
You argued with a strong thunderstorm
In moments of terrible bad 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 was daylight
Shining in the far west
And bright purple fire
Illuminated your clothes.
Meanwhile, in the wilderness of your trees
It was already night, and above you
A chain of colorful clouds
Stretched in a motley ridge.
The sun will lower its rays into a plumb line,
And jet fumes tremble
At the outskirts of bright skies;
Open your arms for me
Thick, spreading forest!
So that in the face and in the hot chest
Your breath gushed like a cold wave,
So that I can breathe sweetly;
Let your mouth and eyes cling
At the roots I have a key to the water!
So that I disappear into this sea,
Drowned in that fragrant shadow
What spread your magnificent canopy;
Open your arms for me
Thick, spreading forest!
We are in the forest in summer
Gathered raspberries,
And top each
Filled up the basket.
We shouted to the forest
All in unison: - Spa-si-bo!
And the forest answered us:
"Thanks!"
Then suddenly he swayed
sigh... and shut up.
Probably by the forest
Tired tongue.
Mom and I are mushrooms
We collect together.
forest gifts
We put it in the basket.
Trees above us
Quietly making noise
About something of my own
They talk among themselves.
We went for berries to a distant forest.
Apparently there are miracles!
We saw a red ant,
We met a squirrel by the stream.
We found a little white fungus,
They put it carefully in a container.
Well, ripe berries can't be counted!
When we return home, we will eat.
We would walk in the forest until the morning,
Evening is approaching - it's time to sleep.
How cool in the thicket of spruce!
I carry flowers in an armful ...
white-headed dandelion,
Do you feel good in the forest?
You grow on the very edge,
You are standing in the heat.
The cuckoos are chirping above you.
Nightingales sing at dawn.
And the fragrant wind blows
And drops the leaves on the grass...
Dandelion, fluffy flower,
I will gently rip you off.
I'll rip you off, baby, can I?
And then I'll take it home. ...
The wind blew carelessly
My dandelion flew around.
Look what a blizzard
In the middle of a hot day!
And fluffs fly, sparkling,
On the flowers, on the grass, on me...
