Forest of Folly
I could hear
shadows
creeping from large
crackling trunks,
as they tilted towards
solemn hills.
leaves rustling
with harried tongue,
as a lonesome hawk
stood silent vigil
to night's unfolding.
people seemed to drift
like branches-
aimlessly,
upon the edges
of civilization;
as the moon shivered
at their growing
discontent,
its blue skin stretched
by nature's
condemnation.
and I trembled
beneath the weight
of vision,
the sun spilling
yellow yolk
across distant
horizon;
breaking
the shell of night,
with blazing shards
of realization,
to be left hanging
upon the twisted limbs,
of man's forest
of folly...
Copyright © Bernadette Langer | Year Posted 2010
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