The Wood in Our Senses

We see
the way into the wood-
beautiful colours
warm sunburnt trees
that grew so tall.
Of different types and ages,
with no end.
Birds seeking their hiding place,
or anything from a rabbit to a reindeer,
a ladder against the wall
so people can grab the apple
we are hungry for
serenity and quiet and fruit
or a very large house or a mansion
or a lake or a picnic.
We hear
the birds
the rustle of the leaves
the scuttle of the squirrel
the clamouring of disturbed birds.
We feel
damp, moist soft carpet-like ground,
slow to dry.
And we smell
wood, dank decay,
ferns and earthy foliage,
A leafy smell
We have a sense of entering
a place
inviting and sedate
dark and dangerous,
with shadows
Don’t feel safe in it anymore.
How do I get out of here?
We are slow to move yet
energised, peaceful
Are we trespassers?
Will our taste for adventure
take us through
the strange gateway to
cool shaded areas or
a good pub
or a fairy castle
Anywhere at all….
Go on forever
along the distant path –
it goes somewhere
but you are not there
until you go there.
We don’t look to the sky.

The Blackrock Library Wednesday Writing Group