How to get lost

Bart Wolffe


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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