Amongst the Blood of Gods
I don’t deny my feet a winding path.
I take a step. Hear the crack of dried
witness to the ages – these trees that
reach cathedral tall. Heavy and quiet.
Like a wood-paneled room with birds
watching from wind-creaking limbs.
The air is stiff. Crinkled. Centuries old.
No one. But me here.
Notwithstanding the blood of gods
flowing through these trees.
I close my eyes.
it’s like breathing in a book, nay,
an encyclopaedia of earth.
That ‘old‘ smell is a real thing.
A haunting smell.
Plague and pudding.
Hay and hair.
Fresh fruit and rotting socks.
Good old English damp …
… that culprit of time that
chews up our pages, and our
patterns, and trails along life.
Written for Miz Quickly’s 20 August Photo prompt, plus a few words: book, good, imposter, arrive, coast, notwithstanding. Use two words and one image OR two images and one word. Photo taken at 100 Aker Wood in Hartfield, plus hostas from the garden after a rain shower. Shared with @Miz_Quickly and @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021