No bird to distract me
Following Kangaroo tracks
Dry water creeks
Merge into a network
Of least resistance
My path crosses
Some giant gum trees
Fallen by their own years
Some lie still on the ground
But still battle
To sprout new branches
Fallen but not dead
The forest is the realm of illusion
A root ball morphs into a dead dragon
A twisted branch in a tree
Morphs into a slinky animal
A gargoyle hides in a stump
An hollow trunk becomes a chapel
All creations of my mind
Who needs the middle-ages
When a walk in the forest suffices ?
Lucette C. Bailliet
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