Poetry | Stories | Photography
The forest listens for the vibrations of music;
soon, the time will pass, and she will come.
The music of her love for them starts to play;
sad faces brighten as feet touch the soil.
The dancing to honour the forest and her loves;
she spins and twirls with the Fireflies tonight.
The trees never stir as the fire burns along;
they stand tall, watching and listening.
The forest spirit asks, “What do you want the most?”
The child stands on tippy-toes, “I want to snatch at the stars and play with them.”
Gently, the forest spirit asks, “Why?”
“If I play with the stars, I might get stardust to help someone…”.
“Someone?”
“Yes.”
“My Bear.”
While watching snow upon a branch, the forest spirit turns to see a familiar sight. “Hello, lover of a bear. Why do you carry a pot?”
“Hello! I took your advice and found something to carry the stardust in.”
With a smiling voice, the forest spirit says, “Come along then, let’s find you some stars to snatch and play with”.
Leaving only one set of footprints in the snow, the forest spirit and the girl walk further into the forest.
“Where are we going?”
Without looking down at the girl, the forest spirit says, “We won’t be going too far.”
“Bear will be cross if we travel too far… oh, look! Snow carpet!.”
Jovially, the forest spirit says, “Snow carpet? That’s a new one.”
“Bear would love it.”
A Bullfinch sings. The forest spirit turns and smiles.
Watching the forest spirit and the bird, the girl unwittingly says, “What does he say…”
“How do you know we are speaking?”
“I feel it.”
“…The Bullfinch speaks of a blizzard.’
“Mum says they’re like a cyclone.”
“Your Mum misses home.”
“Come, let’s find some stardust before it gets dark.”
Thinking of rolling and tumbling, the little girl says, “The snow is like powder here!”
Thinking about how much the girl has made her smile, the forest spirit dives into the snow; the little girl follows.”
The forest spirit says, “We must go! Snow will start falling soon.”
Getting to her feet, they restart the journey.
Along the path, they see a Troll sitting in the forest.
“Should we go and address him? He looks sad.”
“Trolls are troublesome. Come, I will take your pot.”
“I think we won’t get you back home before dark. Stardust is hard to find.”
Weary from walking, the girl says, “I would like rest. It is bitterly cold now.”
“Perhaps the church will be a good place to stop…”
“Churches are scary. I haven’t been since my Bear took me in.”
Wryly, the forest spirit says, “This church is not scary. You’ll see. Take my arm.”
Theodore Kittelsen, Church in the Snow, 1907
The forest spirit and the girl stand side by side in silence.
They do not speak, for this is a rare and lovely night.
Nostalgic and full of love, the forest spirit touches the pot as stardust falls from the stars for her only friend’s Bear.
Theodore Kittelsen, A Nordic Fever
The forest spirit thinks about the years she walked alone, placing one foot in front of the other. An imagined sorrow clouds her mind.
Then, out of the dark, the girl says, “Do you want to come home and meet Bear?”
Unaware of her smile, she says, “I’d love to.”
Theodore Kittelsen, Sorgen/the woe, 1894-95
Before the forest spirit and the girl leave, they take turns counting the stars.
Excited, the girl says, “I want to pick a star for you.”
Not sure what to say, the forest spirit watches and waits for the girl to choose the star.
“That one! That’s your star!”
“What a star this is! I will place it in my crown and keep it with me always”.
A joyful countenance
walking amongst the fairy tale snow-touched trees
A distant bird sings
a song to a plump bird singing and waiting for preening
A stillness overcomes
looking back to see footprints in the powdered snow
All the world is still
doom and gloom left at the door to appreciate nature
Gathered around the fire
the woodsman came to tell us a story
about a wolf and a raven
The woodsman’s voice
a melodic pagan music to our small ears
delighting imagination
Too young at the time
Unaware of the woodsman’s power over us
I was plagued by dreams
of the old gods, wolves, and our destruction
The woodman’s voice
came to me when the sunset colours bled out
on an ominous night
Too loyal to my family
I stayed despite the incessant booming voice
frightening away life
Gathering up my life
running towards the sea instead of the forest
I resisted his power
and I remained the wolf, not what he wanted
A purring cat
Misty mornings with a chance of sun
Walking in nature
Writing, dreaming, and imagining worlds
Drinking tea
Listening to music
Watching the Winter moon after midnight
Talking to friends
Huggy Hugs
Some cooking
Staying at home with a book and a blanket
Licking the inside of my lips watching the scent of her uncut flowers Blowing daffodil hair in the breeze Aching for a kiss, to be kissed such beauty in the urbanised garden Is she the witch from all of those stories? intensifying scents blur my vision She moves closer, and closer, and closer amongst the long grass, I am defenceless Gone from the consciousness of the living she is present, yet there remains nothing else The natural world appears to be vibrating I am under her spell, her control She straddled me and won't let me be free Alone in the long grass awake from a dream, or was this reality? Dishevelled and soaked my shoes have left me to feel the grass Birds sing about something Lipstick kisses on my feet and hands
I was here, yet I was there
in a windswept green with
the Northern wind words.
Lost in the deep green, the
moss, and the beginning of
snow falling upon my face.
Lucid dreaming of a dreamed
up land coming to life, the
world around me loses form.
There and here.
I wish for nature to invade my brain
take me from the concrete and steel
show me the end and the beginning
tell me a story about the young sea
stay close to me and guide my heart
teach me about the ancient old ones
sing the language of the trees to me
I wish for nature to tell me her stories
Nature’s reflection holds me
in her fragile gaze.
I reflect the bare branches
of curly messy hair.
I have been sitting at my computer, floating away in the afternoon sun, looking at the unmowed lawn in the backyard.
It’s nice to take some time to watch without having a deadline, although the backyard looks alive and full of nippy insects.
Saturday is going too fast.
C & K 