Catching the scent - by Kirsty Gethin

This is a strange glade

I knew it in the moment I entered

Drawn there somehow

 

Nettles and rough briers snagging my wake

Suddenly fall away

It is soft underfoot

Plush grass sprung from a bed of moss

Like hairs from a scalp

 

Mushrooms abound, impossibly fragile

Grouped in a crescent

One errant toadstool in my path

Appearing as of painted stone or clay

Is turned to dust

A cloud of spores drifts lazily

Souffle de vie et résurrection

 

There is a hare, I see, across the glade

It is watching from the undergrowth

Quite unafraid

Quite familiar

 

The green sun-fretted canopy has receded

And in its place a still blue

The smell of bark and rotting mulch

Has given way to a lingering scent

A hint of human sweat and smoke

The residue of pleasures visceral

 

The air is warm here

Out of the shade

The birds are quiet

Contemplative and sleepy

Hungover

 

What happened here?

Whose dancing feet left these imprints?

What timber burnt to leave that ash

So peculiar and discoloured

A blood and ochre hue?

 

Are those sun-bleached twigs

Nestled ‘neath the ferns

Smooth sharp fragments

Enamel of varied shades

And the curious white stone

In the soil

Round and half-embedded

How came it there?

 

Rapture and delight

Echo in the circle of trees

Or seem to

Muffled drums beat far away

Or seem to

Screams tear at the pall of quietude

Or seem to

 

What happened here?

I take a backward step

And find I have stepped into a footprint

I am cosily enfolded

 

The warmth is oppressive now

I long for the shadows of the forest

 

My fingertips, my palms, are dusty

How came it there?

A silver dust

A blood and ochre hue