Deep Forest.

Just my imagination. I wanted the layout to be as random as my thoughts were. It reads a little like a chant.

Secret places, shy places;

    The wild rivers run,

voices calling, raising, falling,

     catch a kiss from

        noon-day’s sun.

Leaves a’rustle

   chase and tussle,

tumble lost with silent faces

        cluster now in

    darker spaces.

Hides and hollows,

       light and shade

sequestered path,

    and forest glade.

Shadow’s hand to 

       call the moon

  dark the oak, carved

      deep the rune.

  Weather’d limbs far years

to show, scars the heart

    the eye to know.




© sweetwater 2020
Views: 1306
critique and comments welcome.
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Yes, does read like a chant, Sue, even an old woman sage casting a spell! Are you sure you’re not running a witches coven in deepest Oxfordshire! I’d better go now before I hop away croaking! Enjoyed the Morgana moment!

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