Walking In Wildwoods. - Poem by Fay Slimm
Silence leans, heavy and low in these woods.
Assailing ears filled with previous sounds
It drowns them in quiet. I sense I could
Smell the ancient, mishapen trees around
As they lie fallen in streams, which willfully
Wetting and liquidly glassing them, burst
Before bubbling away. Pregnant air, still
And languid, careless feet tread unrest, first
Bird then butterfly, but calm descends again,
Throws soft muffles of magical peace over
The atmosphere, and silhouettes the same
Age-old green things found here. Uncovering
The draw of this spell-binding place, I may
Then, today in wildwood haze, find a fey!
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