I Like To Write Poetry

From the deep wood

far away sounds

isolated bird song
cries out

no answer

trees strain toward the troubled sky
sometimes cracking
splintered light
lost amongst the shadows

lost but nearer winter than the autumn
stark dark browns and peaty blacks
the tangle of the briars
withered fruit

pungent peppery scent
mulch
fallen scattered leaves
like roses in the waves

soft damp
dusty
decay