The moon was
as alive
As its thousand stars.
Under that
moon, hand in hand,
The couple
walked into the forest’s darkness.
She, with
another man’s child.
He, carrying fervent hope.
The trees
were stone-still:
Existing
with little life.
The trunks’
lead-grey sharpened
momentarily
In the clean
light
Which shone
down from the moon.
Farther
into the forest
The trees
became tighter -
Far too
familiar for light.
The trees - perplexed, crooked,
And
strangling each other.
Each tree,
alone in the crowd,
Held its
plot tightly.
Yet, at
times,
A tree would fling out its colonising branches
In its fight
to gain the precious air
And the
living space of a nutrient earth.
The deeper
they walked,
The tighter
their grip became.
They haunted
themselves with the forest-night.
That
something must come of this.
Something
magical did work its way
Between the
trees,
Up the broad
trunks,
And down the long branches.
It was a
current of earth-power
Which
charged the trees' sap.
Whatever
that buzzed that night
Ran through
the couple too.
That moving,
quiet, something,
Fused them
to the trees,
And the
trees to them.
That
Something must come of this.
“I can
cherish him, as if my own.
I could
teach him the things I know.
The paths
I’ve travelled.
The things I
believe.”
At the
moment of these thoughts,
The unborn
was transfigured
By the
earth-current’s mineral light.
The forest,
in turn, transfigured itself
With the
chemical earth.
And the
midnight forest
Harmonised
with the man, the woman,
And the
unborn child.
Then two
became three.
Hand in
hand,
And hand on
womb,
Together
they walked
(Through the
welcoming forest)
Into their
uncertain future -
A future
that was opening wide
And burning
brightly
At the
forest’s end.
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