The silver mists of Golden Mountain
obscure the ranging view
but create a tableau different and good
of ghosts, and flitting wood nymphs too?

when wallabies thump their way through the wood
it sounds like tree fellers of the past
they appear in swirls of misty pearls 
then disappear just as fast

the deep forest loses depth
the towering forest loses height 
and still the height and depth of it
is perceived as majesty and might

spectre trees and bracken fern
emerge and fade as shades
the mid story of denser shrubs
thickens, then lightens as glades

above in the lofts of the tree tops
lost in a murky crown
the creak of Gang Gangs evokes a haunted house
as the mist keeps coming down

heavy with moisture grey as lead
the weight of water settles
it drips from every frond and leaf 
and jewels the risen nettles

muffled by its soft grey cloak
hushed by its thick grey mantle
awaiting the sun
is forest 
under fractal lintel 

the chill of it penetrates
every thermal hat, scarf and glove
the pleasure of it permeates
souls 
with the nature we love

here in the forest, the misty forest
be one lost and found
take the time to appreciate
the mystery of mistery found all around