The Woods
It’s not oft that I take flight through icy woods on a moonlit night.
More oft than not I would be sleeping when through frosty panes come creeping
Moon shadows playing on my walls like spirits dancing in ballroom halls.
And yet one night as dusk was falling, I heard the sounds of the forest calling.
A friendly invite I must admit though it took some minutes to commit
Myself to donning winter clothing to stay the chill I’d soon be loathing.
And when I stepped through bolstered door I knew not what might lie in store
As though a portal to a dream, the moon supplied a guiding beam.
Trees’ shadow arms enveloped me, the woods and I strange synergy.
The spell of silence, night drawing nigh, drew me in farther, I knew not why
For I felt safe amid the trees, the shadows, sounds, the gentle breeze.
At journey’s end I turned around and found myself now homeward bound.
Retracing steps to my back door, I noticed tracks not there before.
How strange I thought that beasts unseen had crossed the path where I’d once been.
The whole time I’d walked fancy free, I think the woods were watching me
With hidden eyes within the shadows as I crossed quiet snowbound meadows.
For even now as I think back upon that unexpected track
I felt no danger, took no risk, although my pace back home was brisk.
Though warily I walked that night through woods illumed by soft moonlight
Those very woods out my back door now welcome me forevermore
Copyright © Philip Mygatt | Year Posted 2020
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