Forest

clouds in the water
far on the opposite shore
the blue pump house roof
–
changing leaves
painted at the
waterline

our long entrance hall-
the empty peg on the wall
where your coat once hung
–
distant smoke-
years of farmland
turned to ash

low waning daylight-
songs of bullfrogs and crickets
usher in the night
–
twilight-
crickets sing
in my footsteps

vampires do exist-
in fact I’m sure one lives in
this overstuffed couch
–
the forest floor-
twigs and sticks snap
underfoot

a stone foundation
the remnants of a sawmill
lost to the forest
–
after the fire-
the chimney casts
a long shadow

an overgrown lawn-
ravens nest in the eaves of
what was once a home
–
rotting lumber-
vines climb
though the floor

a forest of ghosts-
cadavers stand sentinel
bleaching in the sun
–
echoes –
sunlight on
the forest floor

passing rain showers-
steam rises from the asphalt
in the summer sun
–
soft patter-
august leaves
talk to the rain

a copse of willows-
long verdant tresses brunette
in the evening light
–
prolonged drought-
green pastures
turn to dust

a thick veil of clouds-
the lullaby of crickets
sung beneath the rain
–
predawn fog-
a vixen’s cry
heralds the sun