the forest

Thick trunks of time, stand sentry
Watch over a million emerald feathery blades
Massed together in communion,
Praying and swaying for peace.

Soft, sensual touch,
Sharp, flexible spires,
As around me spread,
A myriad of blue trumpets,
Dappled by radiant shafts, so pure.

Amongst the depths of my mind,
I ponder an eternal mystery,
How gnarled and twisted giants,
From tiny beginnings rise,
These bastions stand by austerely,
Offering nought but severe grandeur.

Huge oaks and tender ashes,
Living in harmony,
As bluebells splash upon,
A living symphony,
Of colour.

Light pours through,
Illuminate cavernous clearings,
The harmony reaches out,
Touching every sense
The silent perfection prevails.