Watching tree limbs bask in the morning fog
Their own shadows hidden from naked eye
We, the observer might question why
Silence in storms, listen a croaking frog.
A world exists speak natural balance
Deep in the wood, horrors of life aside
Humanity breathe where watcher reside
A home is habitat for those who chance.
While just beyond the gravel road and pond
Live a lifetime in tragic element
Lost souls, lost loves, confusion we lament
Evil is conflict arisen but fond
We mourn sweet soul, tragic is sudden death
In the cool dense fog, take solace in breath.
© Thom Amundsen 2019