WOODLAND COURTING

Birds are singing high up in the sycamore
Squirrels busy themselves in the chestnut.
Trees sway in the breeze
Limbs out stretched towards the sun
As in the dampled sunlight,
We walk hand in hand below
Slowly wandering the wood
Through shadows and the sunshine
The humming wings of insects
Our only company
In the shade the spiders silk spun web
Awaits its unsuspecting pray
While I am caught in a different web
On a perfect afternoon
That I wish will last forever