Awakening

Time has fallen asleep upon October.
Her moon was full
and it whispered.
Pathway paved silver with midnight.
The macabre trees shiver alive with the
cold, fluttering, vexatious wind of persuasion.  
Dry wood crackling,
moaning hollow tales.
Her roots woven to this mortal plane.
A rooted sanctuary.
Leaves stir in the electric pull.
Gently, they rise.                
Spirits of this land
Awakening.
Owl’s sing a haunting sonata to wandering prey.
Amber eyes like silence,
listening.
The empty, lost forest is painted
in the history of nature’s independent, unforgiving will.
Aged only by seasons passing.