A willowy passage greeted us
threading a trail through a light wood
high with pine and robust elm trunks.
Frens curled and licked
ankles and shins
leaving damp sheen on boots
carefully avoiding sprawling roots  
there as reminders
nature can reclaim the trail
if and when it chooses.
Husks of beach nuts
dark open stars long pilfered of their bounty
littered a strech of eight paces.
She pointed to movement in the undergrowth,
a flick of leaves and scurry of a squirrel.
Taking my hand for balance and warmth
I lead her through the silence
fearing to breathe in case a breath spoiled the tranquility