Into The Forest

I got the bus from the concrete, out to the country,
Claws on the window, unatease.
Out of the village, I pushed through the wheat fields,
Ushered by the voice of the late Spring breeze.
That sound led me into a dim-lit forest,
Spotlights teamed down through a red pole maze
From canopies above, the sky could hardly see me,
And there it started our conclave.

The whisper wrapped a blanket round me.
The little buds shook, the grass waved green.
Surrounded by a sea of trees
And a sentient love, unseen,
The sap of negativity was sucked from my bones
And I went back to when I was a boy.

I wondered through a timeless realm,
Stepping over and under the outstretched limbs.
Visions of dens, campfires and their camp songs,
And my many other boyish things.
Then it entered, from all around me,
So I slowed, and stopped, and stared
Back at the birch trees all around me,
Exchanging thoughts as well as air.
Then I sat, then lay, on the moss-down pillows
Gazing up through the cobweb branches.
A patch of blue drifted, I felt mellowed
By the rapturous green crown dances.

And some things it told me, others might not understand,
They might not know it like I do?
Maybe Muir and Thereau felt it in their hands-
The power grid that the pineal grew?
But I’m not a great lyricist, I am just a man
Who writes to the stream when it flows through me.
I am not a great physicist, just an also-ran
Trying to understand the particles it lets me see.

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But I am aware of the motions of my breath.
I am aware of the impermanence of me.
Feeling synchronicity through my breast,
Everything is just energy.
Oh, it makes me happy. Makes me feel as one
When I’m light as a feather and I have no feet.
And as bright as the sun, each walk into nature
Is to occupy a higher seat.