Walking A Path Between Dark Hornbeams

Walking a path between dark hornbeams,
I am taken and guided
Into the part of the woods where paths start
And stop and start again,
And are too small for human feet.

All begins here, and happens,
And none of it can be written.
Trees can be axed to the ground but do not die;
Brambles burnt over wide acres
To rise again in spring.
Eggs can be taken from nests and drained,
And others will replace them.

And you: how can you think you will win this?

nthposition, October 2006