Saturday, October 29, 2011

Tree bridge

I run my hands along your back
weathered smooth
lines running into one another
cracks formed between

Ants scurry away from my hands
into hiding, into your shelter
You provided it before
now; again

Moss lathers
moistening your back
your front hangs ivy
part of you, as you were

Sprinkles of canopy dust
like icing sugar
fall on the glass water beneath
Reflection fragmented

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