Forest Walk

Once inside the forest we went deep
then deeper on tranced footsteps till —
by what twilight mood entrammelled? —
we became locked in melancholy
and stood beneath frozen pines
as if time had forsaken us…
Jorinda forced herself to sing
and so freed us — we ran wildly on
till we came to thick walls
alive with tentacles of creeper.
Her song transformed, mid-flight,
into bird sound, her body
a fluttering shape, first swiped at,
then shrouded by, batwing folds.