Trees that have it in them to be a wood Gather dark thoughts where bare hilltop stood. Branch to branch entreats, and root goes out to root Entangling dirt with movement deliberate 5 As worms, and mix their living sinews With cold dead earth, its coldness to renew And above the burning hilltop bring A shadowy wing never alighting. Starless night hovers where noon once reigned 10 And exiles grass, and laughing feet detains With extricating minuets of wait And then pass on,- a guardless garden gate Forever shuddering in the wind trees keep, Murmuring night-long while the world's asleep.
From the collection "The Timid Leaper"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.