In Holm Wood

The Minnoch dapples, fly-danced.
At noon we find a shiver on the water
suggesting stars at midnight.

Round a bend in the path there are trees
which have fallen and wrapped one another
in limbs, like lovers.

Soaking wet bracken and grasses muffle this
September wood. Thin pink heather
and purple scabious light it.

Here vast stones stopper a dyke-end
where a dead thorn tree blurred with moss
lurks like its own ghost.

We walk, and lichen flowers
on every fallen branch and acorns split
and green at every step.

We breathe in oak-air, laced
with draughts of peat and the sudden
swing of a jay.

Advertisements

One thought on “In Holm Wood

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s