Poem, When I walked through the woods

This poem is a reflection on not only the seasons as they change around us, but also the changes going on in the world as well and how we can perhaps see them differently in the , ‘Light of the World,’ which is unchanging. It appeared in St George's, Cam, Parish Magazine January 2017.

When I walked through the woods

When I walked through the woods today, the leaves were not crisp and

bright anymore. Time was clearly doing its work as they slowly, out of

sight, joined the earth once again. There were places where golden

leaves lay glowing on the ground, the last memory of a year beginning

it’s gentle slide towards the darkest day. They shone though, and while

damp, and soon to be mulch, they were a joy, in this gloom, in this day

when the world seems to be trying to turn back the clock, rain clouds

hanging, ready to pour forth, without thought or reason, just a reaction

to absorbing so much, just so much, they can scarcely hold it in, until

they let go, the world changes again, and while some of us shelter under

trees, the ones we thought had gone, come out, dancing, in the cold, dark

rain, their ideas from history, not as lost in books as we hoped. The world

still turns though, today, I tramp through decaying leaves and it feels like

a world of light and joy has gone, while overhead, a few bright golden

leaves cling stubbornly to branches, despite the storms and tempest. I

pause, feet sinking, the earth beneath them inhaling as they settle. The

hills around me, although, in some ways changed by us, are still rooted

in something more ancient and holy. They will be there long after people

emerging from shadows, dance to tunes of fear and greed and hate, created

in the darker places, untainted by hope. These rolling hills, the green fields,

perhaps not so bright today, still roll on, the leaves become the earth once

more and the cycle turns. While that darkest day still looms, it’s not far off

and only lasts, but a single day, before the next day, which is brighter for

a little longer. The trees around me sway a little under that dark grey

sky, they know, they know what happens next, some may fall, but seeds

are ready, the sap becoming dormant, but it will re-energise, days will roll

by and I’m reassured that something much greater knows, something knows

what comes next, as it always does. Newer, greener leaves, will shine and

glow transparent under a bright, spring sun. A Son, a sun which penetrates

shadows, clears away fear, bringing hope, joy and brighter days will come

and because we know the days turn and the cycle repeats, those brighter days

are a certain hope and something much greater, more loving, breathes and waits.

Andrew Hill

November 2016