The Forest Napper

 

Lost in a garden of photographic imagination

kibitzing with lichens and molds

settling in with a bed of wild green grasses

with funguses growing in his folds

 

He tried to rise with foot in the ground

a shoulder and elbow submerged

but a head of green grasses abound

his river water kidneys were purged

 

yet winter came and froze up his eyes

no longer glistening with a tear

he yanked on his arm and a leg

and finally sat up on his rear

 

But part of the woods he shall always be

And he turned over and lay back down

Sinking in past his shoulder again

Once again at peace with the ground

 

Barbara Blackcinder

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About Barbara Blackcinder

I thank my followers very much and hope I continue to write interesting pieces for them.
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