I am taking you into the forest.
Horsed men hunted here before I did
I’ll show you these pony paths
Where the dry-bone beechnut earth
Leads our feet, crackling,
Not dank dark spinneys but
Sun sparkled genteel rooms.
We’ll waltz in the court of the Deer King
And lean in against soft barkless wood
Where he’s rubbed.
Sinuous trunks temple dance
For lightning scarred oaks
Let’s lose time between bracken screens
Make a bed on the heather
Lie in amongst acid greens