Friday, December 09, 2016

The Woods by Loch Lomond

I walked in the woods, watching the light
Play on the bare twigs of winter,
Spotlighting the long and wizened fingers
Of some many old crones, wise women,
Who dwell now in the woods above
Loch Lomond.
As I walk I remember the days of youth
When acorns were treasure, and the
Spinning jennies spun there web of dreams
Until they landed, faerie soft, on the moulded
Ground, and rested there, still and quiet.
I remember the voices of the child who cried
And sang in the shadow of the leaves
And who is now the crone in the tree.
I think of Hallaig, and all who lived there,
But are now gone, and of the loves who
Live on in the woods of Hallaig.
I think of the hunters who marched out
In pursuance of the noble stag, and of the
Ravens that croaked there return; and I know,
I know, that spirits who dwell still in Hallaig
Are much the same as those who dwell
Now in the woods that I walk through.
And I am glad to hear their age-wisdom
Voices on the breeze, and in the river-chatter.

(c) 2ndwitch, 09/12/16

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