Winter Woods
White mist drifts
through rain-wet pines.
Walking through the forest
feels like a waking dream.
Rubber soles against dark earth,
plastered with shed leaves.
Looking up, the sky is no-color.
A counsel of cedars surrounds me.
The further the trees, the more suffused in mist,
until the world becomes a sea of clouds.
In the cool, blue air of dusk,
I become silence—
the sound of trees breathing.
Visitant 
I am standing quietly inside the living cloudforest.
LikeLike
So thrilled the poem effectively drew you into its world, Robert! 🙂 Thank you for telling me. 🙂
LikeLike
Loved the Counsel of Cedars. I can feel them all around me in the mist, telling me tales of long ago. There is a lovely magic in your words.
LikeLike
Thank you so much, Pat! I’m thrilled to hear it brought you there. 🙂
LikeLike
I’m thrilled the poem put you there! Thanks for letting me know, Pat! 🙂
LikeLike
Thank you! 🙂 The counsel, I’m sure, would love to spill their rich & fragrant secrets with you! Thrilled I could evoke a portion of their ancient magic. Thanks for letting me know! 😀
LikeLike
“Walking through the forest feels like a waking dream.”
So evocative! Gives me chills. Beautiful!
LikeLike
Thank you, Kate! 😀 Glad I did the feeling justice. 🙂
LikeLike
I particularly love the image of the counsel of cedars… Wonderful work.
LikeLike
Thank you, Tricia! I’m so glad that feeling got across! 😀
LikeLike