Laughter From the Trees
I hear laughter,
from the recesses of the woods
as I lope in the shadows,
teasing my ears
but the wind carries no scent.
A silhouette
drifts from tree to tree
just in the corners of my sight
haunting,
enticing,
herding me,
and drawing me
at the same time.
The flapping of leathery wings
touches the edge of my hearing,
clawing at my imagination.
I slowly circle
towards the sound
trying not to be to threatening.
There she stands
like the calm before the storm,
biting at the night
and caressing it all at once.
Clouds settle in
tucking in
the blanket of night around us,
the whiteness of her skin
seems to glow
in the absence of light
leaving the streaks of blood
striping her flawless flesh
to stand out
like voids of darkness
transposed over her body.
Glittering eyes
like sparks of a fire
settle upon me
and seem to reach for me.
She approaches,
the movement of her lithe form
defies gravity
with pendulum like eloquence.
As she draws closer
she extends an arm towards me,
and as
the anticipated touch
would entwine my soul
a rush of wind assaults me
as she thrusts herself
into the night sky
leaving me quivering
(within myself),
abandoned
by the near caress.
Copyright © Mark Matthews | Year Posted 2008
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