Secret path


A local walk I like to think is my own.

How quiet is the forest.

Beside the brook, I hear cracking hogweed, like tiny castanets.

And rustling grasses looking like fairy tassles.

I see illuminating, floating gold dipped seed dust, filtered in ribbons between stately trees.

Scratching dry earth with a hawk’s feather, it feels worn like old leather.

How quiet is the forest.

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7 thoughts on “Secret path

  1. Lovely photos LG and your dogs look very happy out in the woods.. Your poetry as always is beautiful .. Hope Summer has been good to youโ€ฆ We are it seems hanging on to the warmth in the UK a little longer..
    Much love your way and hope alls well in your world โค

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