WOODLAND WALK

Tied in tangled twist of birch and beech,
Copper leaf and silver bark entwining,
My path’s imperilled by knotty roots reclining;
In anguish I stretch my weary arm to reach
Through thick clustered hawthorn pricks; each
Conceals the gracious grey of argent lining;
My feet fall over a felled stump; resigning,
I yearn for light, this stumbling block to breach.

Suddenly golden sunbeams pierce the gloom,
Unveiling ahead a spacious glade of light;
I walk where I find a safely shaded way,
In a paeon of pagan joy I shatter dismal doom.
My path is crazed, brilliantly bluebell bright,
Carefree, I ramble on, praising God’s new day!