deepundergroundpoetry.com
Listen
Listen.
The crow and the
laughing fox are
treading lightly.
Wind does not
throw clamour through
the boughs.
Raindrops and
dew sleep steady on
the leafbeds, and the
temper of the
river is quelled. No
play is made by the
squirrels, nor ballad
sung by the morningbird.
The trees do not
groan or speak the
tongues of the
ancient wood. There is no
saturnal hum of the
Satyr's flute around a
climbing flame. Stones do not
tumble or clatter, and the
fruits of the oak withhold
their beginnings. The
friar's lantern takes
caution.
My breathing is slow and
drawn inward.
Listen.
Published 30th Jan 2015
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