In From The Meadow

It's the dark that's most disturbing.
The shift from the meadow into the trees.
Adjust how you see. Take care where you walk.
Feel undergrowth and forest flowers 
Touching your hands as you wander in the half-light.

Look up to the trees they are there for your pleasure
But keep mindful of your steps. You could fall with no sound.
And the crunch of old bark and the faint fall of water
Rings inside your head as if no other sound matters.
Your senses are full now but not bursting over
For here you can see and can touch and can hear.
But can you be heard. Is there someone there listening
You could shout out to see, but beware of an answer.

The earth smells of damp when disturbed under footsteps
And wood snaps around you too quick to be found
Of course it's the animals, tiny and timid
That scurry abroad on their twig snapping way
What else could be here in this deep forest canopy
In from the heat of the grasses beyond the forest's edge
No, it's just me in the cool shade, listening to the water rushing up ahead
Filling my senses and wondering why the birds are not singing this day.