I followed that winged and scintillating procession through the wood,
careful of my distance.
While I struggled
to keep my footsteps
to myself,
they seemed to
drift over the earth,
unfettered.
When I made my way
around that ancient
tree,
they had vanished
through a door
in its trunk.
Next Solstice, I will not lose them. I will follow to that other place.
— C.Birde, 6/16
6 Comments
Is it a doorway to a fairy world or the discarded cloak of a dryad?
Indeed!
I was feeling a tad naughty when I commented. 😛 Random impulse.
Oops. The naughty bit is in regard to the garden poem.
So, which is it? A portal or a cloak? You only said, “Indeed!”
i like the chill of thinking about who “they” might be!
I find the fact that there are so many massive, old trees that manage to survive and persist and grow in spite of such hollowing-out fascinating, even admirable. The idea that these could be doors has always appealed to me. No Narnian closets for me — I’ll walk through trees. 😉