Spells underneath

Into the trees I ran, where I sat
trembling
to sleep, to dream.

In that dark we merged
and I grew towards the edges
of our shared world,
till I came upon the ultimate
dry void where we
could only rise to bear fruit
to spore anew my factual world.

In the dark we see all we need
to feed,
to populate the spaces between,
to create new kinds of soil to grow trees,
plants and mosses – the words of our landscape.

I came to be those words,
maker of myself, creating life,
as well as feed myself into
mycelium –
living as if it were an ancient spell
to remain unseen and yet
be under world lest
the upper hand would be lost.

I post now my sentinels, some in circles,
others wildly out of line or
silently alone in otherworldly colours,
to watch whether or not
a new seasonal dance
does us proud and be truthfully
a beginning –
I cast the spores into the dry void,
unto the wind
to bless the lands,
may your thoughts go with them…