The Woods in Late Summer.

The afternoon sun lights up the trees at the edge of the wood.

Trees just beginning to turn a yellow colour are glowing.

The sandy gravel path leads you into the deep darkness.

The taller mature trees have a denseness that blocks the light.

I look at the slender edge of the wood trees, they are reaching

Out to each other, their branches arching over the pathway.

In another couple of years, they will have formed a tunnel,

Like Guards of honour at wedding stretching their arms.

Arching over, just as the silver swords protect the bride and

Her groom, I feel these young trees too, will protect me.

I walk, hearing the gravel crunching under my feet, the smell

Of wet leaves, and a peatiness. I am aware of birds singing.

I approach the older trees, they are hanging onto their leaves.

They know autumn will come soon enough, drying leaves rattle.

Within the older trees, I feel menace, they know the woods secrets.

They are not sharing them with me. Feeling fear I pull my coat around me

I walk quicker now, twigs snapping under my feet, fox yaps in the distance.

Suddenly I am out of the trees, in front of me is a lake, a beautiful lake

Birds are swooping, eating insects, small animals drinking. I relax and sit

On a fallen branch, I feel the wood has shown me its secret. A special place.