Hiding in the woods my branches like a broom
Hidden behind a veil
I exist in a liminal loom
I am but a shell
Impending winters dark, deep, and long
My sadness evergreen
Nightfall settles in my heart with a rusty song
I am the cedar queen
My arms raised tipped in green tipped in snow
I am planted & there’s no place for me to go
Cedar resin tears and things cling to me
Multi-layered matter grown inward and prickly
Sunlight filters thru neighboring trees and I wonder if they wonder what its like to be me
Moon rise means for many sleep
Yet the silvery light is for me a lunar keep
If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it does it make a sound?
My primordial cries subliminally rise from the frosty ground
The agony of my being alight on the beams
Moon beams or wood beams? Yes.
What has and what will become of me?
I supposed that’s up to the woodsman and the sea.
Cozett Dunn
Chatttown_poet
November 15th, 2023 11:59 pm
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