Secrets Of The Woodland Bleeding Hearts 2003

Beacon Hill forest would hide their secrets,
And agonize the seeker,
In search of that dream,
Splashes of liquid impressions,
Expressed in sequence,
Only prod us back to a chased reality,
I have been back to these woodlands of my youth,
Pines, cedars and spruce know of my arrival,
And send me back to a riddle in time,
As I travel through the underbrush,
My hands feel and grip the bark,
And lift the boughs which motion me to stay,
Only my legs would carry me forth,
Bounce and spring sending me on that day,
And progress to my reward,
Merely hurdles to test the mind,
But rest in kind,
Windstorms of the past played their games,
With these fallen monuments,
Screamers still cry from their sharpened splinters,
Desiccated forms given way to rebirth,
And all is saved in this place of support,
At last those pale pink flowers,
Miniature hearts draped in sentiment,
Those trees and ferns protecting the secret place,
But in colour the bleeding hearts summoning all to admire.