Against An Inky Night
Meandering through an old woodland
I pause against an inky night.
But how hard to speak about emptiness
when voices enter my breath
to hiss of past stories...
Although coarse leaves form a debris
Like fractured thoughts that wilt away;
I lean on a barren oak tree
Restraining words from ghostly play...
earth holds me in grief
tangled with moss and nettles
while echoes return
...louder than nightingale’s cry
in trembles of death’s farewell
8/17/2016
Broken Wing’s It Takes Four Contest
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2016
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