Poem: Wicklow Woods

Uploaded 9th September 2014

A striking path leads to a clearing in the woods
once followed directly gives access
to stranger truths
Willows whisper in the evening air,
inviting the presence of ghostly forms.
Ballygannon north, the ground roots
old oaks and ferns finding treasure in turns.
Mushrooms sprout like granddad’s scalp
Round, brown, shiny and impermanent,
A dusting of leaves spreads in a breeze
its brief talk begging you please-
tread gently and not preponderantly
stay at ease with each organism
that lives and here was conceived
makes its home, nestled in tufts of grass
or sitting on the leaves, hugging the gorse
beside silver birch and budding bilberries.
The wood is alive and it is really
the trees that breathe.

 

 

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