The People Of Wood

there's a path

a secret

path

the sign's got lost

and the path will soon lose itself

too

ivy and fallen branches

 are taking over

at the end of this path is an ancient meadow

volleys of goldfinches

explode into the air at every step

the magpie cackles

and

the rabbits scurry

here stand the oldest

 people of wood

twisted and broken

they endure

in the meadow

beside the quiet water

their heart a cave

dark and sheltered

softwood

sympathy

then over your shoulder catch a glimpse

of rugged laughter

the merry old king

of the riverbank

stand up, m' boy,

look at me square and honest,

a fine caper

and no mistake

square

and honest

but villains came creeping

in night time and malice

in fire and torture

flame

and shadow

but
 on this broad afternoon

let us spread wide our gladsome, welcoming shadows

said

the great lady of the willows

for we have in our hollow bones

new

life

springing

the blackbird is singing

thistledown twirling

the people of wood are silent

waiting

and

your path may look

so

very

different

when it

 returns you to your dream

take care