felled , bleeding orange russet browns, spewing their nutrient into gulping earth.
But, really, it is winter.
I watched you walking.. there.. far, far in the distance. The early morning mists giving me only the shape of your back as you walked ahead.
An unknown entity- on the same path.
It was only as I drew closer, to overtake you, that I heard your voice.
It was different to any other sound I had heard before.
The before voices, were caged in sharp wire, barbs dropped like petals of suffocation.
Small cruelties.
As we smile our greetings - two walkers in the forest of green, gently bathed in the not-yet sunlight of early morning,
I sense a kindness behind the eyes I cannot touch. A place of safety, a place to be in and feel without fear.
I take the lead, but I am in shock. I have walked for so long on this familiar path every morning and I have never encountered another hood clad walker, whose spirit was gentle enough to hear.
The tears burn warm on frozen cheeks, breath spurts in billows of white cloud and I am walking faster.
The desire to be alone in my forest again is very strong, but still,I turn round to see if you are still there- the sound of crunched footfall has disappeared.
I catch a glimpse of your face as you turn to take another path, for the hood has fallen away.
It is then, that I see your smile.
I panic. I look away, look forward, keep walking
afraid
that perhaps you were seeing me.
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