I hear the dead whisper in the trees
As raindrops shatter on quivering leaves.
Dead buried beneath
Long probing roots in soft flesh earth,
Where the dead of man and plant
Merge in compound harmony,
Watered by the juice of clouds,
To rise skyward through woody sap
And raise their voices in sibilant rainsound
In praise of the God of life.
David
Love this. Not only is it a very comforting thought, the pace, length and climax all felt spot on. Beth
ReplyDeleteI am in awe of anyone who can write poetry that resonates. I felt transported into the graveyard - beautiful but a little unsettling.
ReplyDeleteSharon