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Soil's Souls MAG
The trees
tingle,
then shiver
at the
winds
touch
soft
and full
of breath.
And the leaves
trickle
sweetly
Clinging to kin
Brothers and sisters,
fevered in yellows
and oranges
staining
fragile skin
Soon,
they rest
at mother's feet
resting in humble
defeat
Tiny skeletons
torn lifeless
to shrunken spines
A picture,
lovely
and
frozen
at one's heed
Gripped
in
metal
memory
But long gone
are these
gentle
leaves
Second children
to a trees
fertile
seeds
Souls
which do not ascend
crumbling
at mother's toes
Still they lay
against their kin
now collapsed
within their
skin
Sprinkled over
rocks and stones
But too
do they shape
another mother
From which their
mother grown
Upon her
belly
they inter
other souls
Deaths
of flesh and bone
and wooden
viens
From them grows
their mother's soul.
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