Poems of Place

A Walk in Hermitage Woods

(Bristol, England)

They conspired against me,
those merciless wood spirits.
They saw me coming,
my head full of grievances
and they plotted
to steal my precious wares.
The woodpecker, on the lookout,
tapped a staccato warning.
Shafts of sunlight shot through the trees
pinning me to the spot.
Wild garlic knocked me out
with its pungent perfume.
A blanket of bluebells
took my breath away.
Trees waved urgently at me,
calling me to admire
their fresh green leaves.
Selendines and wood anenomes
squared up to me,
daring me to walk past
without a proper greeting.
Birds, insistent and loud,
threatened to sing me
to a standstill.

How could I resist?