the forest hideaway
became the city square
trees were always quiet
listening to wind
watching flowers scatter and grow
there was a decade of birth
and its sticky explorations
inside was a seedling at rest
slowly curling into a tangle
that would overtake the mundane
somehow it became late in the day
on the path in the woods by the lake
with eyes and mouth and hands open
letting the song pour out
in ripening tones toward sunset
The Word Rummager 
Leave a comment