She walks in dappled brown.
The trees, emboldened in
their bare embrace,
reach down, carress
her freckled frown
from their anchored
heights to touch her face
A pile of tiny bones,
ivory needles in forgotten
threads. Small
among the roots and
acorns put away,
peek out and shudder.
Hides itself away.
Circled round like fiddlefern,
tiny boxes -- vertebrae --
soft as chalk
and fragile whisper
under baby's breath,
"Don't leave."
She kneels, blinded by the dapples
darting through the trees
that sigh and shiver.
Enchanted by its size,
she lies beside it gently
Closes her eyes and smiles.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Blah-Blahs