Saturday, 11 January 2014

The Wind

A soft wind moans in the trees
Telling stories that nobody hears
Sharing wisdom that nobody heeds
Crying tears that nobody sees

The leaves rustle and shift
Unnoticed in the night
Each alone and afraid
Yet unwilling to share their fear

A moth shifts, sensing disturbance
The bat eats, quickly
Many more must die tonight
So that he might live

The tick jumps
Finding warm flesh
Embedding jaws deep
Slowly swelling with blood

The wind blows still
Passing over all
Questing for someone
That it can never find

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