Storm clouds gather, billow overhead
Lightening streaks the sky, a fateful strobe
Rain beats down turns the ground to sludge
The moon stares upon me with a twisted smile
The trees gather their limbs overhead
The trees stand with their branches grasping heaven
I see the trunks all mute and stark
Branches droop like skeleton fingers
Tap tap tapping to the rhythm of the wind
The rustle of the leaves just a whisper of doubt
Branch and bough creak to ward of my approach
Trespassing through the forest of twisted oak
Roots turn and twist, try to bring me down
Finger of thorn rip, shreds my skin
I flee through the undergrowth
Mists whirl around my feet
I stand on the dark sand bank
The babbling brook babbles inanities at me
The wind voices words of derision
I wade into the swirling black water
Soft sand oozes underneath my feet
I lay down in the enveloping liquid
That cleans my body and cleanses my soul.
The Mudcrow
May 1999
< MUDCROW'S CHAT ROOM
