The Bluebell Wood

The Bluebell Wood

 

Tread softly

Through woods

Now awash

With purple heads,

Flooded into every space,

Spreading,

Fanning,

As water compellingly

Wraps around stones.

 

Tread softly

As night melts

Over the flowering ocean

That lies calmly,

Breathing,

Stirring

At the feet of trees

And underneath stars

That leave moments of old light

On their leaves.

Tread softly and hear

An ancient whisper

Of spring.

PW