Light squeezes between the leaves.
Eyes to the sky serve me best.
Rays cast their fingers on me.
Sun has passed its daily test.
The circle widens and deepens.
A place to while away the day.
I keep to its rounded corners.
A place I’ve come to love and pray.
Sascha Schneider (German, 1870–1927), Eichenwald auf Ruegen (Oak Forest on Ruegen Island), 1925
The forest grows dark.
It has come alive.
Wooden arms reach for me.
Roots uncurl from the ground.
Trees shake and dance
to the moans of the wind.
Dark shadows follow me.
Moonlight teases me.
I’m trapped in hell,
where the sun doesn’t shine.
THE DEAD GAME
THE TREE
The tree appears dark and looming.
It could use some proper grooming.
I want to take a walk between its legs,
Growing tall from the ground like giant pegs.
By its rules we must strictly abide.
Imagine the secrets it must hide.
Come walk with me in its deep shade.
Through the fallen leaves we will wade.
A canopy of leaves above our heads
As we fall asleep in our leafy beds.
A beautiful fall day.
A pebbled path through the red.
Charcoal steps leading up.
Fantasies flow through my head.
The leaves lift off
Until the day turns dark.
I’m trapped inside
A red swirl in the park.
The rain trickles.
The wind cackles.
I flee for safety
On raised hackles.
The path is gone.
Night has come too soon.
The path is gone.
Lost in the full moon.
Cover me with leaves.
Shade me with your glory.
Heights towering above.
A protective cocoon.
Let’s travel through the forest so green.
A creature-filled oasis but don’t scream.
The roots tangle around our feet.
Walking becomes a scary feat.
Neon leaves hit our faces.
A hit every few paces.
I’m sinking deep into the forest floor.
Quicksand my enemy forever more.
(Source: travel-story)
A BEDROOM
Cover me with blankets of flowers.
Shelter me with petals of pink.
Sheets of softest green.
A canopy of leaves.
A bedroom of luxury.
None can compare.
(Source: travel-story)
A PATH
A path through the trees.
Past moss and thick vines.
Bushes are shaking.
Animals are scurrying.
Leaves are falling.
Birds are fleeing.
I must get home.
The forest is dark at night.
Too dark to be safe.
I can’t move.
Vines are twirling around my feet.
I’m trapped.
The forest has taken me.
I feel so cold.
Ice is forming on my arms.
What is happening to me?
Why are my leaves drying up?
Ouch.
A cold wind just hit me in the face.
I wish I could hide.
But I’m stuck in place.
Waiting.
And waiting.
I think I fell asleep.
For the sun is out.
My ice is melting.
The breeze is now warmer.
It’s brushing the snow
off my cold arms.
My arms feel less heavy.
Soon it will be spring.
Time for celebration.
I can’t wait to see my
green leaves again.
Birds will return to
sit on my arms.
They will build their nests.
Life will be good again.
Only a few short months left.
I will take another snooze.
See you in the spring.
