What is it with Poets in the Woods?

2014-12-14 16.27.23
Northern Ireland

I walked into the woods so unprepared.

My clogs and handbag with the tassles

were all I had to save me

from bears and the Canadian Lynx.

I walked into the dim forest

so steadily and with such big steps

that no one could have guessed

at my faltering, my heart stopping

breath threatening fear.

I walked there.

The sound of peepers deafened

my ears to danger.

I tripped and no one saw.

I kept going.

The trees pull me in

and something in the air smelled like lilac.

Check out this Brian Pickings bit on Eve Ensler‘s tree fascination.

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