Secret in the Woods

 

Branches of pines touch the roof like long thin fingers

around the cabin lies old wood and stands tall grass.

A collection of soothing smells graces the sun-struck grounds.

The dirt holds footprints, leading to a clearing, in which a man stands.

 

He’s wearing great black boots and an apron,

his sleeves are pulled up and his hairy arms are showing.

In his two big hands a giant axe dances

as it swings up and down on the blocks of wood below.

 

On the axe glistens the reflection of the sun.

The man’s movements are graceful and his face holds a great content smile.

Deep in the woods stands a man and all around him the sweetest smell of nature

and the soft sounds of the wind travelling through the trees.

And through the canopies a bright sun stabs its rays through small leaves,

creating complex patterns on the dirt ground below,

patterns creating stories, and poems.

Silence is only interrupted by the falling of a branch and the rustling of the leaves.

 

The man looks up and smiles.

Had his heart been a mirror he would have reflected the sun from it.

His spirit stands taller than the greatest pine tree in the forest.

He closes his eyes and sniffs deeply.

 

A sound in the distance wakes the man from his daydream.

A faint beating of drums can be heard in a muffled echo.

In the distance lingers a thick mist untouched by sun.

The man pulls down his sleeves and takes his axe.

Feeling the air around him and touching bark and bush

he approaches the mist and the sound of drums,

both growing thicker in texture as he comes closer.

 

The mist now grabbing around him like a cloak of dread.

An overwhelming feeling weighs the man down as he passes mud and creek.

Out of the fog thin skinless fingers reach towards the man’s face.

They grace his throat and barely touch his lips.

 

There’s a secret in the woods.

 

Slow moving tears roll down the man’s face

as whisper and touch hold his heart in their grip.

Still yet he moves on, faster now.

Faces appear in the fog all around him, smiling.

He falls to his knees and cowers under a blanket of rotting leaves.

 

From above one ray of sun shines through the mist,

followed by a swallow, black and white

but golden now in the man’s eyes

as it comes flying down through the mist at great speed.

And like a great wind defeating a cloud of dust the mist disappeares.

 

 

At a small river sits a broken man.

 

 Slowly he’s daring to look ahead again.

On the other side of the river stand two tall, slender, faceless shapes.

Their arms touch the ground and they float slowly above a patch of moss below.

The river stops flowing and the two figures beckon to the man with their long arms.

 

There’s a secret in the woods.

The End

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