Summer Holidays – Annika Perry

I shall go

Where the trees talk

Where the grass and plants whisper

Where the skies are big

I shall go where the

Morning spider’s web is sheer

More precious than jewels

Where my hand on the tree

finds strength

Where the dew delights my feet

Where the air cleanse my lungs

Where the birdsong is

full of joy and purity

Where I meet my friend

Also rejoicing

Where our greetings

become a whisper as not

to disturb the sanctity.

Here we rejoice

Here we gather strength and joy

This poem perfectly encapsulates my next few weeks, as I head off to Sweden with the family to the two houses in the forest.

Here immersion and union with nature and oneself is made possible and after the initial week or so stillness finally settles on my soul.

One afternoon I’ll stop and as if for the first time notice, really notice, the woodpecker high up in the tree as its drumming echoes across the land. One morning the breeze will be whipped into a frenzy and with contentment I’ll sit and watch the entertainment of the wild, erratic dance of the fir trees, the natural monoliths bending to improbable angles before slowly unfurling to stand gracefully upright again.

The midday sun heats the sand on the beach and like a kid I’ll scuttle to the water’s edge, immediately emitting a shocked squeal. As the crystal clear water ebbs at my feet, I’ll study the HD-quality shells and pebbles. Time at last to be awed by nature’s gifts.

One dark night a loud thud against the house wall will wake me and instead of fear I’ll smile to myself. Silly elk. Can’t they see the house? Then I’ll turn over and sleep soundly once more. One evening, sitting outside with a glass of wine in my hand, I’ll glance high up at the swirling birch tops and then spot the first fleck of autumn, the yellow tinged tips of a few leaves. A sigh of disappointment as summers end beckons.