I was very honoured when my piece Song of Everything was given a Moon Award by Beate Siddrigdaughter this January, not least because Woods are my favourite places to walk. They give shelter from Summer heat and provide soft pathways in Winter’s mossy coat. I spring they are alive with flowers and ferns and shoots, in Autumn die most gracefully and show us how it’s done. It feels to me as if nowhere else is on surrounded by such ancient lives, not on a beach or in a garden. There is depth and height to woods, and time’s dark secrets in the oldest and newest lives and always an untamed side. Woods are like walking the fairy tale. Where will this path lead and who is whispering? They are familiar and strange. They creak and communicate in branch and root, underground. And even when trees die the engender new life. They are purposed into the ground, into the air, they feed and nurture other growing things.
I love woods
every tree and every fern,
every gully, every turn,
each and every shadowed bark,
ripples of light, stripes of dark,
mosses, lichens, branch and root,
leaves above and underfoot,
bird-song flitting though the air
scents of firs are everywhere
and most of all it does me good
to spend a few hours in a wood
watching trees do what trees do best
live quiet lives — and so to rest.
Maybe January hasn’t been such a bad old stick, after all.
I have such a lot of work in Writing in a Woman’s Voice now that I have made a PAGE LINK for it so just go to that page and follow the link and it’ll take you to all my work in that magazine.