My Wood

Trickling down through the autumn leaves
A strand of daylight falls
That golden light among the gloom
As the wind breathes on through

My feet they pass like silent spirits
Treading carefully
And I pause and listen
To the winters call

It lingers on as the leaves die
Their honeyed skeletons littering
Scattering the path where I lie

There in the distance
A bird flies away
The sound coursing through the trees
Catching my heart
And I sit on
And listen

This wood, my wood
Where there is no time
It changes through the seasons
And love it I will
In summer, in winter
With the bluebells and the rain
And when the frosts catch the life
I sit and wait for spring again