There is no tame place between them,

flesh of trees soft as distant pulses –

filtered light moving through gauze,

alive in warming equinox –

fallen – trapped between their ribs,

feet sinking into wild wooded places,

turned on their heads,

sipping rain from floors of ancient forests,

In their wild eyes – play the riverbeds

there is no tame place left.

“The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.” – John Muir



One thought on “untamed

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