Eyes in the wood.

Posted by on February 8, 2016 in Blog, Ireland, Writing | 0 comments

 

 

Eyes in the Wood.

 

Someone said to go there.

To walk down the tree-lined lane

And enter the moss covered passageway

Of beech and hazel.

Deeper now with thicker moss beneath my feet,

I step back into the past,

And wonder whose steps I have followed

Into the darkening shadows.

Silence is everywhere.

Moss covered and listening always

To my next step back in time,

Where night creatures roam about.

I step around a lordly beech,

A master of this place.

And find myself inside a grove of hazel.

I pause and wonder what I heard.

The low grumble of a mighty crow,

Or something else.

The sniffing of a deer at sunset,

Or rabbits setting up a nightly watch.

Eyes dilated with tension building.

It is all around me.

The Druids are here.

They whisper with their ancient voice.

I move an eye deliberately and there it is,

Right in front of me.

A hooded crow with piercing eyes

And long black beak.

It speaks to me with one eye cocked awry.

With ancient sound and flash of beak.

I feel the words but do not hear them,

 Just deep vibrations echoing into the night.

Other waves of sound surround me.

More voices closer now,

Almost touching, but holding back,

To separate me from their pack.

Afraid no longer but unable to speak.

I let their world work wonders in the night.

I’m welcome here, I think.

To run is not a need to pamper.

The hooded Druid speaks once more

And then retreats back into his hazel maze.

Muffled silence wraps around me

As carefully I too retreat into the dying day.

Denis Hearn 2015

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