Nordic Noir

It felt oppressive as I walked through the dense pine woods.  Not how it should feel at all.  I'd seen a large truck on the walk in and didn't really want to peer in but I thought I saw someone in there. The engine wasn't running.  Sounds of gulls became fainter as I walked in deeper.  A dank smell invaded my nostrils.  I saw a couple of small patches of light but even they were willing me to turn around.  Carrying on for a short while, I wondered what I would do if I met someone.  I wouldn't hear the engine start or a truck door open.

I spun around and walked right out of there.

My mission was one of the  Stanza Stones.

The photos looked airy and open.  The walk in certainly was not.

On the way there, poetry was inevitably churning round in my head and I chuckled to myself as I recalled the words to Johnny Tillotson's song, Poetry in Motion or, as I thought at age 8, Oh a tree in motion.

So, today, here is a tree in motion from somewhere well away from the spooky old woods.  The Stanza Stone will, I'm sure, be blipped another time!