Free verse № 10030
Shelter
Twisted trees dance windy rhythms,
dead lake below begs for run off,
hills to the west capture a storm front.
If i stay here longer i will
become part mountain,
my skin blended from the hunter,
movement silenced by the desperate
howl of pines battling to know air.
Soon snow will again fall.
38 comments
(please carry on being a bastard I quite like it now).
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