100 acre wood
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There are woods that seem, somehow, magical.
Olden, dappled places where there is an interval
between the world we know and the one that we imagine.
Groves of white birches interspersed amongst olden oaks and tall pines.
Ferns and Solomon's seal delicate underfoot.
A never-never land where glad and joyful youth
cannot see that the structures they are building today
use timber from trees that their grandparents planted
Trunks that once were as young as they who build the bridges are now.
There is a silence almost reverent in these woods.
Golden beams of sunlight filter through the tree tops
creating the effect of a silken scarf
Everything bathed in chartreuse and emerald.
My corner of the world
Our world Tuesday