We’re off to the sylvan wilds within
To wend our way to words.
Our lines of thought will couple them
Aligned in text – not heard.
For in this silent space they lay
For some, an ever-and-a-day,
Awaiting eyes that seldom know
The depths we wondrous poets go.
And on the subject of hunting for poems, here is one of my poster designs for a “poetry walk” through the woods for the Marches Poets. It was a shared event and organised like an Easter Egg hunt.