I'm Sure It's Not Such A Lonely Road Poem by Mark Heathcote

Although my soul isn't blest
I'd like to leave it abandoned
to walk the forest possessed
touched by moonlights, garland.

I'd hoot with the tawny owls
and watch the fungi's ears outstretch
I'd like to see the stoats open jowls
as they a pheasant fowl do fledge.

I'd like to hear forests creaking
like a bat biting on a beetle
I'd like to go quietly, bounding
with a stag hoofs in dark treacle.

I'd like to pace beside a vixen
watch how she rolls in the snow
see bloodied farmhouse chicken
slew on the jaw, necks heave-ho.

Although my soul isn't blest
I'd like to leave it abandoned
to walk the forest possessed
touched by moonlights, garland.
I'd like to leapfrog with the toad
I'm sure it's not such a lonely road.