Little Red and the Forest Way
It is springtime now and Forest's paths will open soon
for all the little girls who are not so little any more.
They will walk, as we all do, into the comfort of the forest's shade.
their breath will deepen; their pace will slow.
And with every step, each cell will open and be renewed.
It is an act of symbiosis for little girls,
in red caps or otherwise, to walk the land.
To speak to the trees, and the rocks,
to the vast life of the elder woods,
to sit with the waters and sing.
It is a healing sacristy,
where smells of deep earth
and of ancient things,
in the deep sleep of geologic time.
The breeze, if there is one, whispers of summer things,
flowers not yet in bloom, trees not yet bearing fruit.
Dreams still unwoven.
The young woman, who may or may not be wearing
her assigned cape with the red hood,
for it is spring-time and the Forest warm,
pauses on the path to listen to the elder voices,
of tree and of granite and of moss.
Depending on which land Forest finds itself in today,
the advent of Wolf may or may not be of concern.
For men have hunted him close to extinction here,
and in all the lands whose webs she walks between.
But the path, that they cannot destroy,
for what the Grandmothers all know,
is that each Little Red makes her own path
with every footstep on the way.
Fiona Mackintosh (© April 23, 2018)