Monday, April 21, 2025

Looming trunks and scrubby brush rush
by, a forest on its feet, marching. Arms
taken up into tangled branches wave
in the wind. Muddy bare feet grip
slippery flat stones tilting into brook’s edge
and cloud its cool, clear water. Woods ablaze
with action around us, we wait, shrieving
our soles of their tresspasses before
joining the trees in their crusade.