(For Tilly)
silver snakes slither
grasping in throngs
tongs of black crayon
prickling and puncturing
twining secrets like wool
winding amongst the weeds
weaving a different story
this bearded brush
sweeps up the trees bare skin
spearing the skeletal hands now
brown with age discarded
on the crystal ground
this accidental leaf picker
is on a different path
head amongst fresher foliage
engraving stone with rivers
this curly coat like breath
lacing smoky circles
amongst those bare reaching
branches.
(20 lines)
