The language of the forest
can be heard
just by being in the midst of it.
The trees
laced
in moss they are
ancient
forlorn and wise.
They endure on
sacred ground
and rise where
very few dare to walk.
The woodlands
stand sentinel
and beckon “enter”
with the magic
of heavy-laden
color.
The lyrical
movement is alluring
yet an abstract
and unsure presence
taunts
and pulls at the heart strings.
The sun barely shines
through
the thickness
and the
light
has
nowhere to rest or reflect.
The dampness
still holds
an aroma of rain
and at any moment
a
mythical
creature
could reveal
what
only
plays
out
in the mind.
-debbie lynn
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