Weird Poetry

In the woods

There is always the deadfall —

The trees that have fallen into their end —

A silent Winter death on the edge of the chirping Spring.



Returning to earth,

Demise in soil and dry moss,

A soft and sweet falling into eversleep —

[Only if you’re not around to hear it]

Back into the biomass —

Its place of birth.

You’ll always find one,

And you don’t even have to look very far.

Its death is now life.




*** Lighten up, Doll Face. It’s just a season. ***

*** Ugh…. ***