Forest magic

 

There's old magic out here in our enchanted forest, it stalks the open heath and shaded stands, it whispers on the breeze and it flows in abundance through the forest's meandering streams. This morning the Red Rise Brook babbled as I passed by, it sounded like a muffled voice from a small radio just out of clarity's range. As the peat stained water swept over the brooks pebble bed I listened intensely, though could make nothing out. As I stood there transfixed on the bank, in a woodland scene dappled in gorgeous autumn light, it's was easy to see why for thousands of years streams and wooded places have been the focus of so much mystery, folklore and ritual.