by Brenda Mox
Haunted by arboreal ghosts
emerging from the forests womb
the solitary wanderer staggered along,
shaggy like a crow, with eyes wide open.
Wherever he glanced, he saw nature
fighting for time in the light,
as a breeze shook rain out of new leaves
in pursuit of eternity.
Each string of droplets
tapped distinct rhythms.
Syncopated drops
poured down in silver strings.
A solid white roar of bare
branches dripping rose sibilantly
from percussive trees.
The grey fog of dawn,
in a wet hollow of this world,
was sweetened by the sound
of moving leaves turning lightly in a breeze
as the damp earth blossomed
in fecund fits and throes
and bird songs rang in spaces between trees.
© Brenda Mox
Brenda Mox is a poet and visual artist from Virginia. Her work has been published in Wingless Dreamer, Bewildering Stories, Down in the Dirt, Ariel Chart, Blaze Vox, Neo Poet, Discretionary Love, Corporeal, Heart and Mind, Edge of Humanity, Poetry Pacific, New Myths, Poetry for Mental Health, Postcards from Young Unicorns journals, Eber and Wein Anthology.
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