Sitting in our car in a near vacant car park
Waiting to set off on our forest preamble
Rain whispering endlessly among the trees
The eerie rustling not at all frightening
All food for the heart of the poet
Absence of sunlight secondary
“The squat pen rests on the open book” (Seamus Heaney – Digging)
We sat celebrating the darkness of the day
Surrounded by skeletal trees not yet fully nourished
Others their limbs nicotine in their colour
From fighting against the elements
While saplings they are alien to what
The elements are to throw at them as they mature.
Meanwhile the scent of the forest permeated the car.
(c)Poetry from The ManShed
10/09/19
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