HOW TO GET LOST
My feet will lead my eyes. Beyond the human boundaries
The forest awaits. Not just the careful step meandering
Over fallen trunk that hides its jewels beneath the moss
But hands might learn again to find the fungi and the fern
And contact this wordless world of wonderment.
This is a map, multi-dimensional in colour and shape,
Its edges articulate as each scalloped leaf of the holly
Beaten out of green metal, a badge worn through every season.
Now is the beginning of the budding, small nubs swell
And squirrels nibble at them for sustenance.
The beech is pointing arrow heads from each spiked twig.
Sometimes, you might encounter a new inhabitant
That spins a yarn between the hawthorn’s angles
Dangling on the wind, a shivered thing,
Or some small louse, miniscule passenger of the forest floor
Whispering six small sticks as it scurries from a…
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