A deepest blue-wash backdrop to the towering, ancient trees
Dark swaying branches in their patterned reach to the wispy vivid grey-whites of the strong-blown autumnal clouds
Silhouettes in a painters-palette of an unknown masterpiece
Hidden in this mossy, damp wood, away from all the world
And as the path descends through a kaleidoscope of dappled moving light and shade
The orange-red berries shout from the spikey depths of passing dark greens
The crows grumble angry broadcasts across their territorial treetops
As they fly wide, slow spirals down into the silent, lower field
Tiny emerald-rich plants shoot leaves of exquisite, startling beauty towards the fading sun
Quivering delicately against the earthy, old stone wall in a chorus of abundance
Fair maidens hiding behind the gold-strewn bracken towers
Silently avoiding eye-contact in their collective bashful shyness
Treasures of cream-white Mushrooms stand like sentries beside the battlements of darkest-brown ancient trunks
Their tight, smooth curves playfully distorting the boredom of a human’s pure circles
Bright spots bounding the canvas of bark-edged dim lines and shadowed foliage
Effortlessly exhibiting a wonderful gallery of perfect imperfection
And as I descend the path as it unfurls towards the final stretch towards home
From the canopy of that mysterious, secret wood and back to life’s usual course
I reflect on a feeling of something fleeting, that I’ve unexpectedly gained
Some imperceptibly tiny insight into our all-reaching, staggering universe