A Woodland Walk
David Evans
The surface was rough to the touch leaning against the bark of the wood. From the fluttering canopy above to the leafy carpet where I stood, the gothic pillars high from the ground upheld the forest around; and the rustle of the leaves from branches swaying in the trees gently danced amid the late afternoon sun. Resting my back to the trunk I slid down to repose my weariness on the ground and there, in timeless silence and still, there was a shelter in the land. A sanctuary from the bleak and barren plain without words or comfort and open to the wind and rain. But here was a cathedral of half-light, a refuge under a darkening sky dappled by the dying rays flickering night and day on the bed of leaves where I lay. I could dream in the gathering gloom as, after walking, walking, walking, I had at last found a home in the welcoming words of the sacred woods a language away from the rush of Time.
David thank you for sharing your poem with us. I’m intrigued by the paradoxical nature of your poem — the forest scene is both inviting while also raw and gritty like the elements.
This poem is so calm and inviting. I enjoyed reading on this rainy slow morning ☺️