There’s a lovely restraint to this Susan, and the way the woodland isn’t just a setting but a state you move through and come back from altered.
I really felt that moment where love blurs into darkness, not as drama, but as disorientation. The spell doesn’t break with noise or revelation, just with a quiet instruction: fly high, go south. That turn toward winter, toward writing slowly and praising what looks bare, feels gently earned.
Thank you for sharing something so attentive and quietly wise.
Thank you for your thoughtful comment. Yes, a state you can get lost in. Innocently, as we do (the playful wood spook not sensing or heeding the danger). We often don’t see our reality until something bad happens, but isn’t there always a way out? Someone or something to guide us home? I was thinking writing poetry in winter as being able to look back at a life trajectory from the winter of your life (or of a period of time) as a way to make sense of it, without giving up your dreams (keeping it in your pocket)
There’s a lovely restraint to this Susan, and the way the woodland isn’t just a setting but a state you move through and come back from altered.
I really felt that moment where love blurs into darkness, not as drama, but as disorientation. The spell doesn’t break with noise or revelation, just with a quiet instruction: fly high, go south. That turn toward winter, toward writing slowly and praising what looks bare, feels gently earned.
Thank you for sharing something so attentive and quietly wise.
Thank you for your thoughtful comment. Yes, a state you can get lost in. Innocently, as we do (the playful wood spook not sensing or heeding the danger). We often don’t see our reality until something bad happens, but isn’t there always a way out? Someone or something to guide us home? I was thinking writing poetry in winter as being able to look back at a life trajectory from the winter of your life (or of a period of time) as a way to make sense of it, without giving up your dreams (keeping it in your pocket)
A lovely ode to the romantic beauty and danger of the forest
Thank you for reading and commenting. It’s truly appreciated.
Susan, it’s always pleasant to read the thoughts of a fellow forest lover 😊
Always called to the woods
Not to mention that you’re a cute forest nymph peeking playfully out from behind trees 😊
Was. That was taken many years ago!
You know the old saying, You’re only as old as you feel and I bet you feel like a 20-year-old girl when you’re out in the forest, no matter your age