A Mysterious Place

The trees beyond the cemetery are all dead, bare of leaves with branches twisted liked gnarled limbs all akimbo. They've been that way as long as I can remember. Thirty Five years and still they stand, tall, dark and tangled. Most people find it off putting, too foreboding a backdrop for a place already shrouded in death. Walking through the grove of trees I'm surprised at how tall they are, at how the trunks and branches bend and curl, some swirling up and some swirling down. I touch them and they feel strong, solid. Perhaps they're not dead after all...

I find them uniquely beautiful, stark yet majestic in their own way. I follow along this trail of trees until I find....I think it's a fort. A little hut made of made of fallen branches and twine. Inside it smells of clove, honeysuckle and thyme- such a curious mixture...Where is it coming from? The hut is empty, just big enough for me to fit in. A thick tree branch runs through it, dipping low, it's just the right height for me to sit in so I do.

My heart starts pumping fast and I'm not sure why. It's something about this place. There's something more than trees here. I'm not sure how but I can sense it. I'm not nervous, more excited and curious, anticipation rising for no reason at all. I hear the cry of birds from above, lots of birds, so jarring in this quiet place. Stepping out I gasp, the trees are filled with birds and not just any birds. They look tropical, feathers of rich, vibrant colors and so out of place in New England. What on earth...

They fall silent and I take it all in- I'm awed at how stunning the scene is. I'm a little freaked out at the size of these creatures, and the fact that they all seem to be staring at me. There is one bird that has no color at all- it's feathers an almost blinding white. I stare into it's eyes and after a moment is lets out a series melodic chirps then takes flight. Rising into the sky the other birds follow, all of them making noise again- a cacophony of caws, screeches and high pitched cheeps.

Then they are gone. Leaving me in an empty grove of trees where it smells of clove, honeysuckle and thyme. I can't say for sure, but I think it's the smell of magic.