poetry & things


Distant blue field

further, still the dawn

warmth of day, falls away

disappears into a

fragrant piney forest

a path – twine and twigs, mossy laid

soft steps, of hoof prints made

in tunnels wooded, dimly lit

gray lichen amid the moss

raindrops magnified, gazing through

boletus spongy staining blue

fat berries, salal and thimble red

sparrow rakes his nesting bed

when all the light has gone away

night slips silent into another day.

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