sweet woods

A path of oak leaves leads through a thick green forest.

 

 

late August and the sweet, deep woods dripped

shades of green, speckled orange

mushrooms pushed through rain-soaked oak leaves

overnight

and grew shawls of white mould

 

 

 

I wanted the sweetness to be sweet

grass waving in the northern field

I wanted the humidity to be curling

smoke waved overhead

at a native prayer ceremony

 

instead, leaves already lying

on the forest floor, all I could smell

was the fading perfume of funeral

flowers

 

A small white moth is lying on its back on a brown leaf, it's legs folded inward above it's body.

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Categories: poetry | Tags: , | Leave a comment

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