Wild Wood, the children's secret world where goblins
roam and faeries frolic in the dell. Where the owl hoots
at mid-night and the blackbird calls at dawn, where
diamonds sparkle in the grass and Unicorns are known
to pass and children are both safe and free to roam and
wander as they will.
Just go down hill and leave gates as found till you
come to the creek with trees all around. The willowy
breeze is different there, the leaf litter thick and dank,
you feel there is magic in the very air with wing beats
around you everywhere. The old tree clothed in green
moss where he lies where others more recently lay down
by his side. A carpet of shamrocks covers the ground and
stealthy rustlings follow you around.
Look up and gold still bedecks the trees with blue
peeping through to gladden the eyes.
A giant of the forest lies across the creek, a highway
to the little folk whose dwellings lie the bank beneath.
King's ransom gold hangs on the trees to dry
as children through the ages pass near by
A witche's house? a castle? a tidy up of sorts of drought
dead trees that block the way but not a thing that is the
wood's is ever taken out ... wood gently turning back to earth
to bring forth more of its own kind.
The Wood is left to nature's way to do with as she wills,
wild quinces line the creek bed, a clump of age old pears,
surviving many fires, still dressed in snowy white in spring
vies with the row of hawthorns to the bees' unending joy.
vies with the row of hawthorns to the bees' unending joy.
The tangled wood tells tales of old....
The creek here widens with some stepping stones
glinting silver in the sun's warm light. Frogs hide in the
watercress and turtles wander here and there, small barefoot
children squat beside the pool, watch water bugs and lambs
who come to drink, make nests of plaited grass or when the
the creek is dry, build cantering horses in the creek's soft bed
who come to drink, make nests of plaited grass or when the
the creek is dry, build cantering horses in the creek's soft bed
of sand.
Their happiness still sings within this quiet place.
The magic steals along the bank, turns silver poplars
into precious gold
to float in pools of blue...
with faery diamonds sparkling in the grass as to the
molten silver pool I pass.
The laughter of the children follows me uplifting spirits
so once more I see.
To explore the world, click on the Logo at right.
To Klaus and The Team, thank you for clearing my
head with this meme.
