on a painting by Rosann Berry
Towards the light that chimes
through green-spangled trees
in an otherwise silent wood
at the midday hour when neither
birdsong nor the muffled foraging
of porcupines can be heard
I walk past columns of bark stippled
as a wildcat’s coat on a canted path
that’s soft underfoot, cushioned by
last autumn’s decomposed leaves.
Reluctant to leave the stillness
and the dappled shade, I linger
at the edge of the forest, before
stepping out into the radiance
that beckons from the other side.
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