The Trees Have Listened

Two Sundays back I visited Home with my family. I took a walk through the woods, stood on the marble staircase and felt my hair rise in the breeze. Aslan let me ride on his back but when her turned to stone I realised it was time to go back. What a shame.

Stone Bridge, Stone Globe and Roman Temple
Tall boys with windswept hair they rule the fields;
My family and I they warmly welcomed
The leaves curled inwards and pianos singed.

Wandering through, along the river’s path
Lay something Dead. its breath
Stung me like nettle soup.
a withered “ahh” on glass, it disappeared and gasped
Ripples of water – two,three,four – and mute
Gazes of passers-by on branches without wood.

The morning dew slivered with spring romance
And it was joy, and it was assonance.