Land Scape of Shadow Life
landscape of shadow life
Eden marsh is still
when the hawk
gives way to the owl
silent feathers sweep low
over shining bog
to dust away the last
vestiges of twilight
songs of other times,
once warmed and borne
on sibilant breezes,
lie deeply entombed in mud
the silver scaled seek depths
tangled by remnants
of root and reed
cat tail stalks
dried to palest brown
crisply bent before
prevailing winds
fray the edges of
ice clothed pools
we, who bide here,
weep snow tears
while crossing
through our lives
like clouds
stacked and rolling higher
over Eden marsh in winter.
we the disinherited
our voices buried
wait, words frozen
glistening spittle on tongues
hard as diamonds
cut the ice glass clot freeing sounds
of crack-shatter speech
our peat soaked bodies
bend before adversity to become
wisps of paper wasp nests
to flutter anonymously gray
delicate yet barren
our stories mere guesses
in frigid places.
Copyright © Patricia Cresswell | Year Posted 2017
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