THE TREES
꧁ Digital Diary ༒ Wefru – India's Largest Writing Community ༒ Read, Write & Grow ༒꧂
꧁ Digital Diary ༒ Wefru – India's Largest Writing Community ༒ Read, Write & Grow ༒꧂
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the forest that was empty all these days
Where no bird could sit
no sun bury its feet in shadow
the forest that was empty all these nights
will be full of trees by morning.
All nigh the roots work
to disengaeg themselves from the cracks
in the veranda floor.
The leaves strain toward the glass
small twigs stiff with exertiin
long-cramped boughs shuffling under the roof
like newly discharged patients
half-dazed, moving
to the clinic doors.
I sit inside, doors open to the veranda
writing long letters
in which I scarcely mention the departure
of the forest from the house.
The night is fresh, the whole moon shines
in a sky still open
the smell of leaves and lichen
still reaches like a voice into the rooms.
My head is full of whispers
which tomorrow will be breaking.
The trees are stumbling forward
into the night. Winds rush to meet them.
The moon is broken like a mirror,
it's pieces flash now in the crown
of the tallest oak.
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