The Forest

I spent a lot of time as a youngster walking through forests. My parents didn't have a lot of money, so at weekends, or during school holiday times, we would pack the car full of food for a picnic, and set off somewhere we could have a good walk, and we mostly went for forest walks. We mainly visited evergreen forests, where soft mosses clung to old stone walls along pathways; where we could hear the sound of a powerful river beyond the trees; where we could hear shrill cries of small birds from high up in the canopy.

But I always thought about what was going on beneath the soil. Did the trees communicate? Did other plants and fungi form a part of the tree communication highway? I wrote this poem to explain what I imagined in my head, and what I still imagine, now, many years later.

The Forest

A great piece of curved landscape,

Occupied by silent sentinels.

They stand in long rows,

Further than I can see.

A cavern of darkness

Between the Scots pines

Swallows the light

And my ability to see too far

Off the track.

****************

Limbs touch neighbours' limbs,

Whispering, and sharing secrets

In a language only they know.

They look forward. Ahead.

They are giant arboreal kings,

With towering, conical stature.

****************

Secrets and codes pass constantly,

Under the humus, the soft leaf litter;

A sweet perfumed layer

They make with gentle tumbles

Of pale brown needles.

A carpet for kings.

***************

In the dark subsoil, roots converge with roots,

With ethereal tendrils of fungi,

A kaleidoscope of bacteria.

Sending signals, messages, aide,

Ensuring all are kept nourished, strong

In the quiet green kingdom.

I hope you enjoyed my poem. If you did, thanks, and feel free to share or 'like'.