PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Leaves whisper

Voice of the trees

Oak sap sip

Crackle tip the seam

Of quiet and my present mood

Crisp blue pink

Cripple trunk half sunk

Mossy tendrils 

Buried the fire

Smoke tongue 

My clothes and skin

Gathered down

Once its all ashes 

There is nothing for my 

Inspection

The stars live here

Through branches

Spindly gripped switch

Of earth and the unknown