She lies beside the trail,
one arm draped in verdant curls of fern, the other
angled beneath her, fingers sinking
slowly into the yearning earth.
Once, she stood sturdy and stable,
spine unbent, shoulders broad,
her voice a rustling hush
against the wind’s insistent weight.
Now, her ribs split open,
moss thick on her skin,
her breath a damp exhale of spores.
Beetles make a feast of her flesh,
Huckleberries and hemlock rise from her bones.
How long has she been here,
softening into something new?
How long before I, too,
learn how to give myself away?
Oh that was nice! Beautiful writing, lush with image and mood. Thank you for sharing.
I love nurse logs and stumps, and you captured perfectly their essence.