The Green Man in Winter

Looking at this tree my brain started to play pattern forming tricks, like seeing figures and faces emerge from flames. Trees often have that effect on me. I remember as a small child, tired out after Saturday shopping in the nearest town, drifting in and out of sleep lying on the back seat of the car, watching the night time woods flicker past, upside down through the window above me. They would turn faces towards us to watch us go past, reach out with long, winter barren fingers to scratch on the glass and on the roof. This tree, today, seemed to house a green man perched upon its side or emerging from its trunk, turning towards me but frozen there by daylight or cold or my direct gaze.