I half-awoke, standing in a forest
bark peeling in long curling strips
from the shivering trees, mist
hanging like moss in the higher branches
leaves layered thick under the soles
of my feet, and I just listened
to the dripping of water
falling like bullets from the sky.
In Sherwood Forest, Santa Cruz Island
Posted: June 24, 1992 in PoetryTags: Forest, Leaves, Sky, Trees, Water
0