To Pinetrees Enchanted forest - Free verse

Whenever I feel low, I think of pine trees
trying to recall lakes glittering through the northern forest at the break of dawn
the smell of blackberry leaves and the pine needles and the moist ground and pale moon looking through the branches...

And I used to sit on the sand near the lake
or look around for small lakes in the ground, inlaid by brown leaves
that would be more in early autimn,
when you could hear mushrooms growing through the moss
so soft you want to lay down on it and never wake up….

And I often had this fantasy that my hair grows,
mingling with grass and tree routes, entangling with them –
golden and green, brown and olive…like in Pre- Raphaelites’ paintings
… a child lost in a land of mystery and magic, knights sleeping in an enchanted forest…

But to the pine trees – the ones that choose sandy shores for their dwelling,
reflecting in water of a lake or a gulf, whispering in transparent air, calling you
and I would be lucky if I were not alone - yet still alone inside –
so deeply and completely by myself…

 And numerous fires along the coast line, and slight fear –
fear of the unknown, fear of the darkness, fear of yourself…
and night calling, and ancient voices awakening, blood pulsating in veins,
 heart beating like a clock in an empty house.

I loved to swim in the water usually so cold it felt warmer going out of it,
 unless there’d been a sunny day and the water would feel like a tepid milk
and I loved swimming at dusk, at dawn, at night, whenever possible –
 that feeling of a complete reunion with nature - and when it was a clear night the stars would be all over – above, in the water – as if you were drifting in the sky full of stars, ready to get lost…so scary and wonderful.

 And the pine trees would be all around...