‘I met a fool i'the forest!’
(As You Like It, Act II, scene vii)
For Jonathan Lear
I left my man-made sanity behind
and pushed into the undergrowth.
The trees conspired above my head.
A river ran uphill. In their tristesse
the birds stayed mute, an unvoiced,
heard rebuke. Fragments of what had looked
like truth clattered and splintered
at my feet. Each step a loss. Stumbling
against moon-bright dew-jewelled webs
and moon-dark threads of thorn, I took
a holiday from my constructed nature.
A coat of leaves grew over me, metallic
in the moony dazzle. Teases of motley
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