The Mask

Written by: Lorraine Ferns

I see a masked shape
in the trees

when the wind blows
the mask laughs
it's leafed face half hidden

it does not mock
as it is trapped, half exposed

the other half is mingled, attached
to it's roots of birth

when the east sun shines
the mask disappears

with a shadow
it jitters and trembles

succumbing to it's
birthright.