A place to share my writing with you, the readers.
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.
Tiny trapeze artists
Creating your own hanging bars
By which you travel
Eight legged acrobats
No need for a catch net
Performing your art
Across my bathroom ceiling
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.
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
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.
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