When we stop for a drink Jackie asks the children to write down three things that were lost in the woods, three things that were found. They place their words in the cabinet.
In the afternoon these words grow into whole poems. Here are two of them.
The Lost Silver
Beneath the fallen tree struck
by lightening there lays something sliver,
It was lost by me and found by me,
then its power turn the woods into winter,
as the swallow calls its final call,
The silver returns to its place.
Once upon a time,
when the lake wasn’t dry,
fish filled it
reeds grew in it
swans swam in it
herrings fished in it
and those memories, now, today,
Keep the lake going, day, by day, by day.
And Jackie shares with us poems she has begun to write too - words caught from the language of the children’s play, words that lie waiting in the woods. Words that sound, as Hannah said long ago like a poem of a dream of the woods. A refrain from one of them stays in my mind all week:
Like the trees dream of saps and rings
And the nettles dream of nests