A Somber Wood
I walk a path devoid of moonlight,
trees whispering the news of my arrival.
My footsteps make no sound at all,
though I feel as though the woods can hear me.
Far from the crack of dawn,
nearest the fissure where night seeps in to greet me.
The wind spells my name as it drifts by,
the hiss of a ghost in my ear.
I look up at the sky, so close.
I look into the woods, so vast.
Forever enclosed by the whispering trees,
the eyes of a moonless night. . . .
I walk.
—Mar. 9, 2010
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