Gillie Bolton

I hold up my chin
as Mum fastens the buttons
and ties up the hood of my red shiny mac.

'Tell Granny we love her
and give her these cakes and these flowers.
But beware in the woods.'

Red is the light of the day on my head
through my crimson umbrella:
a shield from the footsteps of rain.

Daddy holds out his hand
and I take it - the path is all
slippy and sloshy with wet.

The quicksilver bole of the beech
is the pole of a tent and the pattern of leaves
on the grey of the sky is a roof.

I am cold, my legs bare. But I do as I'm told
in the wet and the rustle
and the grunt of the whispers of the wood.

Granny caresses my cheek and my hair:
?You look pale dear; your lip trembles
and, oh your hand shakes.

The wind in the trees should bring
roses of joy to your skin,
when you walk with your daddy,

You're safe with your daddy,
he's so big and so strong with such a sharp axe,
and he loves you so much.

Gillie Bolton
Little Red Riding Hood The Honest Ulsterman Poetry Journal 91 p68