Monday, May 21, 2012

All The Quiet (The Forest On The Postcard)


This is where all the quiet
Has quit to
Where the solitude
Stays
The relaxation
Resides
And the peace
Prospers

Paths are paved
With golden grasses
Each hilltop
Each cliff crest
Offers the best view

Each tree canopy
Filters green streams of light
In sheets and streaks
Onto the dark forest floor
Where overlapping shadows dance and shimmer

Soon, sunlight bakes to gold as it lowers
And the forest air chills
Like coals darkening
And cooling to a deep grey

At night birch trees glow
Soft blue
Under the burning white moon
Fireflies weave
tiny lights among branches

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