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Ann Trevenen Jenkin

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Woodlands

(Crenver Wood, Clowance)

In Winter, twisted trees lie naked, bare
But berries red of holly lie around
Dark ivy stands out strong against the leaves
Of beech or chestnut carpeting the ground.

The ground is wet with soft, dark, loamy earth
In which the seeds of new trees flourish there
While blackbirds search for worms with diligence,
The sound of woodpeckers hammers through the air.

But then, in Spring, the colours change to lightness
With beech leaves fluttering green against the sky
And squirrels chatter in the tops of trees
And dogs search frantically for fleeing prey.

In Summer, all seems lighter still, as sun
Catches grey trunks and leafy canopies
More birds are active in the burgeoning trees
And flowers are found among the mossy banks.

Red strawberries ripen in warm granite nooks
Along the woodland walls that shelter them
And later still, the brambles offer fruit
While all relax in warmer summer days

And then comes Autumn and a watery sun
Shines fitfully through tear-strewn leaves.
We catch a hint of Winter and forget
The rose-pink Summer, the delights of Spring.

We pick up sticks for coming winter fires
And think of primrose spring and summer days
Remembering the yellows, whites and blues
But revelling in subtler autumn shades.

My woodland is the touchstone of them all.
I walk the woods at morning, noon or night.
I marvel at the seasons of the year
My Cornish Wood of beauty and delight.

 

Page(s) 38

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