Inroads

The deer path
has been excavated
from its intimate
trail of mossy secrets
to a course hewn
five feet wide
accommodating us, of course,
but not the slow poetry
of listening
here, where the
January thaws laid bare
a Caretaker’s House
like Brigadoon, brief
or here, where in the
sunrise silence
one could hear
the Lady Ferns
unfurl in fanfare
nor here, where
small Spring Beauties
gathered in gossip beneath
the wise old Oak
who bears witness now
only to the wreckage,
the red blaze nailed deep
without apology.

Photo & Poem ©2023, Jen Payne. If you like this poem, you can read similar in my books and zines, available from Three Chairs Publishing on my ETSY SHOP. They come autographed, with gratitude and a small gift. .