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