Poem #167 (Evergreens)

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Wikimedia Commons

 

The blush of the wind, rushing softly

through the evergreens. I feel

the heat of the sun, and prick of the

pine needles underfoot. The skin

peels back like aged bark. A bear

is eating somewhere, I sit listening

to the hushing whispers of the

trees overhead.


 

Thank you for reading my work! 

-Alina