From the Forest Floor

Drawn on whispered breath Of windThe scent of pineOn upturned branchesCaressed by The sentimentOf a winter sunChanneling the Powder blueFunnel of sky.Spent leaves of AutumnSpun into Drifts ofGold carpetCrunchUnder soft feetStartling a wood pigeonBreaking the spell. When we escape the wind, mist and rain that we’ve had all day and venture North East 30 minsContinue reading “From the Forest Floor”