Crescent

Wrought-iron sentinels
stand side by side,
connected throughout
but for a yawning divide.

Ancient oaks flourish,
their roots grown through cleaves.
The electric rails’ current
moves ‘neath a quilt of leaves.

The archaic and modern
with one another stand
on this soggy crescent-
a sacred and debauched land.

The State of Being Connected

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A fresh sapling,

young and new,

grows among its ancestral kin.

Their roots join to form

an ancient web of communication,

sharing nutrients through

their communal networks.

Symbiotic relationships,

tree root and fungi combine.

A complex grid exists

beneath the forest floor.

The sapling rises to the light.

Its branches extend toward

the sun’s illumination.

It will struggle to survive

in the dense woods

among its ancestral kin.

The sapling will adapt,

as living things tend to do.

Perhaps it will outlive the rest.

 

Clouds

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Billowy Billows
White Fluffy Pillows
Puffy or Flat
Misty Zeppelins
Blanketing Overhead

Cumulus's Fluff 
Can Make For Wet Weather
Nebulous's Haze 
Makes Visibility Vexing
Stratus's Layers 
Lay Near to the Earth 
Veteran Sailors
Give Nimbostratus Wide Berth

Cumulonimbus's High Thunderheads
Pay Homage to a Norse God
Whose Lightning Bolts 
Evoke Approbation
And Remaining Outdoors
Requires Grave Consideration

 

The Baobab Tree

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“Baobab Tree And Fruit Watercolor” by vectorolie via http://freedigitalphotos.net

The Baobab Tree

She pressed her palms against the ancient oak.

Spanish moss hung down

grey and curly, like the hair of an elder woman she once knew.

Rivulets of blood stained the bark,

hundreds of stains mingled,

the essences of a hundred men and women.

She remembered the baobab tree in her village,

the one where the children prayed.

The community matriarch told tales of ghouls,

white, snatching their people up,

violating their women and girls.

Their men were roped like the beasts

that stalked the edges of their village in the night.

The baobab tree witnessed it all-

the ghouls with their explosive weapons shouting.

The ancient oak wept blood.

The baobab wept, too.

 

Donnell Creppel 2016