The Secret Place Tricia Waller

The Secret Place

Just as the world awakens, uncurls, stretches and yawns I tread slowly, silently within shadows of deep velvet green forests,

in the company of wild rabbits just a heartbeat and a whisker away. Squinting through subaqueous light is an ancient splintered kissing gate.

I squeeze through, my toes tip-tap across the bruised and blistered board walk and enter the sacred, my Elysium. My fingertips leapfrog over hills

of peagreen algae which grace the failing fence. I breathe in the sweet purple orchid, the newborn morning, trap golden sunbeams on my tongue

which fizz and explode like popping candy. I flow through the proscenium arch of oaks: the air is alive with the clarion call of early rising robins, blackbirds and thrushes.

Tricia Waller

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