Whispers From the Trees
Dusk casts a sepia glow upon
sentinel specters of the wood;
another summer has passed and
the autumn shedding lay all about me
as I sit swinging and remember,
how the wildflowers filled
this glen a few weeks ago.
In the ephemeral light, whispers are heard.
I wait as she wanders between the gnarled
branches; I catch the impressions
from my muse, while she strolls
beneath these storytellers.
5-12-2021
ALL YOURS (May 12) Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2020
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