Thursday, 20 December 2012

Day Twenty: 'Swithland Woods' by Karen Powell

Swithland Woods

I stumble over moss-draped slate
protruding like vertebrae
beside the flooded quarry
abandoned a century ago.
Just off the path a village
of toadstools from fairy tale pages
is sheltered by a holly bush;
an exoskeleton of spikes
protects each spine.
A squirrel spirals the blackened
outline of an alder tree.
I remove one red glove,
select a blackcurrant wine gum.
Losing our way has become a ritual.
My face is needle-cold.

Karen Powell

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