an unplanned walk in the woods behind a junkyard caps a shitty day with radiance

thorn green serpentine vines mark the trails  
difficult door, bitten face, hands, the blood letting
for passage, and for what? the glory of balancing  
on rotten logs, a clock killing long walk, the arm  
hacking of dead limbs, the melting pendant of the  
sun like golden notes of light playing in bramble  
ears and a reedy mind, like a lullaby of molting  
feather cattails float-sparkling  side to side in the  
trembling breeze of twilights dawn