Crawley woods

 Crawley Woods

 Day 19: write a poem based on a walking archive - things you gather on a walk.  A lovely idea,  but rather than collect stones, leaves or whatever, I decided instead to bring back images to share with you.
Walk with me through Crawley Woods
Along paths of spongy beech mast,
Of dried earth and quarried stone,
Dappled with shade from this luminous green canopy. 
Take the lower path, skirting the fields
Where curious cattle lazily graze. 
See the swathes of bluebells rising up the banks
Crowding out wild garlic, celandine,
More wildflowers than I know how to name.
Climb the stile, the portal between woodland and meadow
Enter the sunlit open space,
Keeping to the narrow well trodden path
Winding its way through a blaze of buttercups.
Turn and absorb the wide open valley 
Before ducking under the encroaching branches
To find the stile back into the cool darkness.
Walk up along a rising path into the heart of the wood
Where the dim sunlight struggles to reach the ground. 
Listen for the sudden rustle of leaves:
The whispering wake of unseen creatures. 
Stand still, and close your eyes, 
Still your breath, inhale the peace of your surroundings
Bathe in the tranquillity of this special woodland,
Before turning for home with a sigh. 




© Copyright 2020. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved





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