Feelings of Fingle

Fingle Woods can captivate us. Every time we visit, we see it in a different light. We hear the songs and rustles of nature, draw in sweet and soft aromas from the flowers and trees and appreciate the little magic each day brings. Two of Fingle’s visitors have put their woodland connections into poetry for us to share.From Lucy…ACCEPTANCEAscending into a fresh dawn mist, a yellow-hammer catches my eye. In this moment, I notice that I have more gratitude for the dawn mist than I have ever had before.It shields me from the outside world. I can not see through it, nor hear past it. And neither do I wish to. I am entirely surrounded by it. Held.It is coupled only with a colourful blanket of bird song. A blend of blackbird, willow tit, robin & song thrush. Glancing down, I spot a tiny fractured egg shell. Blue - fragile.Crouching to investigate.A gigantic mound of redwood ants awoken & the delicate magicians. The woodland anemone. One moment closed tight. The next, facing the sun with egg yolk centres beaming ....The ants protect the aphids & the spiders scurry past. The bluebells resurgent. Tentatively trying to rise up. A floor covered in wild garlic.Breathe in. That smell.Leap. Slip. Jump.The mist is clearing now.And a new arrival.Acceptance.Through the vail. On that indescribably beautiful (although I did try!) Spring morning.