Earth Heart (3)

Yesterday, we trampled back into the woods
where ageless rippled trunks split the sky,
their backs erect despite wobbling lofty tops.

In the times the coke bubbled on our tongues,
the peace and the fury of our shouts
echoed through these same winter trees.
Our sharp eared dogs investigated river crevices,
each one fascinating in turn
accompanying soft burblings in cacophony discordant with
thin throated excitement.

Incumbent in trees we would lie and plot amongst the crows
before they clapped their disapproval
and abandoned their watch.
The perilous heights and gulfs of streams
so little to us then as rope burn and ankle twists.

Dawn wetness was our enemy as saturnine horses
turned to our emotion.
The same unearthed danger squats in pitted soil wounds,
sodden earth gaping.
Dry wooden gates cracked our hands, splintering skin.

The moss has settled here in its woollen softness,
shipwrecked on its wooden island - it perseveres.

Now, far from our home, we brush away the fond mud
as accommodating tufts of once refreshing cold green,
mired in quick soil, welcomes our legs back into the woods;
remembering our shins as brambles now neck high
leave their mark.