The wood behind my house is lost
In wreathes of mist - like clouds of frost
I can hardly see the street ahead;
Muffled sounds - a neighbour's tread?
Is this the “tulgey” wood of Lear?*
This nonsense rhyme now seems so clear!
Ripe for a ghostly apparition
Perhaps you'd call it - intuition?
The mind plays tricks – I think I see
Shadows beckoning to me...
Reminders of friends I have known
Who now keep contact on the 'phone...
It's the stillness I admire the most
I switch off – let my mind just coast
It's at such times my Muse is sharp
And subconscious thoughts rise from the heart...
* Jabberwocky by Edward Lear
(c) Poet in the woods 2016