Songs of the Dryad


A November storm has raged across this land as warfare would

breaking the backs of saplings and striping the treetops bare

the pathways have disappeared under the scree of the canopy

and the wounded wood groans as if awaking from a nightmare


A footfall drums a pulverising tattoo on fallen foliage

as a foolhardy traverser of troubled places treads through

through and over the badger set and fox-like dens now opened

maws in the ground where once deep roots now rise in plain view 


To the centre of nowhere to sit and contemplate the raging

tempests that rise on occasions both around and within

a soul that seeks the ephemeral solutions to self-inflicted struggles

such searching can heighten the senses and allow primeval to begin


To intertwine birdsong with Mistral and her unknown harmonies

they raise their vaporous voices from the dark and bleaker

mindscapes to choruses increasing from calmness to crescendo

in silence they sing giving succour and solace to a solitary seeker  

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