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October 31, 2003
Ghostwood
At the edge of the wood the sunbeams breakStippling patterns on the shade
Trail fading into dark…
At the edge of the wood, and the Tree is Birch
White bark peels back and shreds like years
Layer on layer
Year on year
Heartwood wound in a fraying shroud
The light slides over the darkness
As today wraps ‘round the past
The Tree unwinds; a spiral ghost
Revisiting what was
A seed unfolds
A sapling sways
A twig attains the sky
A root winds down
And down
And down
Heaven and earth entwine
But ruin and rot and lightning strike
Reap only blackened ground
And wicked winds will roots upheave
To twist through fallen boughs
At the edge of the wood a Tree is gone
The edge of a retreat
Too dark for evening to discern
The forest from its ghosts