wigwams of moonshadow
cast by trees
across drifts that host
sparkling Orions.
only i alien,
gigantism
of pulse and huff,
the spruce like a weir
catching my blunders
with quiet.
cairns left by squirrels
guide the way,
middens like glyphs
on half-sunk knotholes.
where the thread leads
witching hoots might say,
lust-tuned staccatos
sounding the labyrinth.
and yet the forest
is too deep to explain.
even owls will never know.
Chris Crittenden, Maine, USA
3 comments:
Incredible selection of images and descriptive perfection. Thanks for submitting this.
Drawn in by a great opening image line. And the squirrel's cairn!
Reverent and mystical - the image of moonshadowed trees in the winter silence of a forest.
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