Woodland Walk

Woodland Walk

I walk alone in the woodlands

All year

Birds sing there

During the day

When you listen

The moment lasts

I choose three things

To carry out of the woods

One for my hand, one for a wreath and one for my heart

A stone from the path

A cone from a fir

A feather left behind by a bird

I might choose other things

Another day

Depending on what the path

Showed me

Walking in the woods

Fills me with joy

It is the World to me

Every day

In conversation with Agnes Falconer’s «Wishing Wood».

Poem discussed with CoPilot, Claude, Gemini and ChatGPT.

In the mix