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Août dans la forêt
Before even the birds awaken
Lightly pressing her cold nose and
Wet tongue into your ear
She rouses you from your slumber.
The sun is yet to rise and
The sky is still bruised by night.
Nonetheless the hints of a hopeful
Morning begin to unfold around you.
Woollen charcoal clouds on the horizon
Are knitted with pastel pinks and golden yellow
A silvery mist obscures the tree line
Like a voile de soie délicat.
Sleepy woodpeckers huddle together
In small dry roosting holes
Scots pines and oaks rise up
Casting shadows against the dawn.
C'est la forêt de Fontainebleau
Cocooné au plus profond de l'automne
Within a sea of pink and green ferns
Mushrooms wet with dew
Clutching rocks, meekly peek upwards.
The beech and oak trees around you are almost bare
Their leaves carpet the forest floor
With shades of gold, butterscotch and scarlet
They crackle like embers, beneath your boots.
Millie pads quietly beside you
Looking up at you with every second step
Patiently awaiting your permission
To away and play with the resident foxes.
With a nod of your head, she bounds away
Kicking up the soil in her stead
The scent of damp earth lingers in the air
You eagerly inhale the sweet comforting aroma.
Watching the fog of your breath
As you slowly exhale
Hinting of the winter to come
Il gèle à pierre fender!
