The Way through the Woods

Winter sunshine is lovely, though to those in thrall to the temporal lobe it can bring blows that will come at you out of nowhere to knock you flat. 

Maybe it is for this reason I like the safety of deep woodland, where the sunlight is filtered and beautiful. Or maybe it's just that woodlands are strange and beautiful in their own right . 

This poem of Emily Dickinson's (and those who follow me know that I am particularly fond  of her poetry) sums up the otherness of winter light on our way through the woods today


There's a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons –
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes –


Heavenly Hurt, it gives us –
We can find no scar,
But internal difference –
Where the Meanings, are –


None may teach it – Any –
'Tis the seal Despair –
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air –


When it comes, the Landscape listens –
Shadows – hold their breath –
When it goes, 'tis like the Distance
On the look of Death –