Our Fairytale Forests (many pictures)

[cloverfdx]

Gorgeous photos as always Kirsten. I too never tire looking at your work .

[Karen]

Enter, if you dare
Into forest primeval
Stream of light just highlight
The depth of darkness within
Tread carefully over moss and
Uneven, untouched ground
Never manicured or managed
And beware ...
Of old roots that lurk and trip
Of creatures hidden within the woods
Busy at their lives so removed from ours
Tread quietly, and still your breathing
Listen for the birds you cannot see
The songs embedded within this place
The whispers of humans who passed long ago
Stories exchanged away from others
Whispers of love
Echos of the sobs of those who sheltered here
Seeking comfort in the steadiness of trees
Tread softly, for this, as much as any cathedral or
Man-made fortress against the world
This, I know in my bones,
Is sacred space.

[Lady's Human]

I love the pictures, as always Kirsten.

Germany's forests always struck me as very well managed, but I just can't forget waking up in a hammock several feet off the ground, looking down and seeing a pack of wild hogs trying to figure out how to get me down and unwrap me.

[phesina]

Stunning photographs.. as always, Kirsten; thank you!

Such atmosphere..

[Kirsten]

Thank you very much, cloverfdx and Pat!

Lady's Human, you are so right; I'm always concerned about the wild hogs!

Karen, these poems are just stunning; they speak of mystery and the essence of nature itself. They should be read at the fires at night.

[Karen]

Karen, these poems are just stunning;

Awww, thanks.
I try to limit myself to one per day, just so I get other work done, but your photos are quite evocative for me!

[Karen]

Autumn comes to the forest
In an array of splendor, color and scent
Green is no longer dominant, but gold
And grey, russet and amber
Leaves of the deciduous trees bright
With all the remembered yellow of summer sunshine
Dimmer now but shining from the leaves
In one dying display of color
And the ferns and low bushes,
Closer to the moss dampened floor
Glow of rust and deep amber, as they curl inward
To begin their winter slumber
The rich browns and grey of damp trunks,
Stolid and heavy in the mist
Old trees cut and stacked for winter fires
And the remaining grasses gone gold
Complete the scene with the steady
Deep and abiding green of hemlock and pine
Drawing moisture from the mist
Will endure
When the mist and warm air are gone
And all other colors, fled with the fickle songbirds
Away, away from impending winter, desolation and cold
Still, the ancient trees will stand
Burdened with snow, shaken by winter storms,
Yet green, deep ever green
As we huddle inside, under blankets and sweaters
Trusting its promise
That spring, and color
Will some day return