The cicatrix stuck out like a sore thumb
What a pity the tree didn’t have
proprioception, allowing it to move out of the way.
Strange thoughts going through my mind
As I walked through the woods.
I have no need to leave crumbs to find my way back
The last time I was here, a strange luminous light
drove me mad, as I could not discover what it was.
I could not suddenly pretend to believe in fairies
That mix of little folk that like to tease
Maybe, after a lifetime of study
I will be lucky to see one of the shining folks for myself.
An hour in, there it was, luminous, shining
Could this be the original light from so long ago?
Can I continue to deny that there is something
other than myself living in these woods?
© Anita Dawes 2021