Dead leaves and Stick Trees


The perfume of dampened soil

The crackling of dead leaves under the weight of my feet

The silvery milky cream of a moon half hidden

And the chill in the air as all creatures big and tiny

Either tuck themselves in for the night or awaken

It is cool and quiet

But I have no idea where I am

I can’t say for sure that I am far from harm

There is sweat on my forehead

Knots in my belly

Am I dreaming?

This could be someone’s story

I am in it so this must mean something to me

Twigs snap and owls chat amongst themselves

As I rush past trees that all look the same

Night has such a different feel

 I am lured in but my brow is up

 

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