Weaving Native Life
Trees' jagged branches
catch the sun sinking a moist
hummus color spread
and coating the edges.
Pointed, thrust into seeping
ink of violet cotton,
is the mountain, chalk
colored. It is a beautiful ogre,
deceptively majestic.
It eyes a village
weaving native life.
Spines of which are wild
burnt-colored trees,
the bones of the forest, its
tangy scent sweet to prey
that lure the lion,
whose deep yellow is the hue
of the indian
sunset. The sky is now
an acrylic portrait. A stoked
fire settling, rose imbued.
Ash color ingrained
into stone embraced by ivory
patches, bone-chilling.
The sugar- soft dirt
covered paths collect footprints.
Carved into a life.
Copyright © Jennifer Cahill | Year Posted 2020
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