Tranquil Woodland

White cotton swirls
Puffs of humidity
Against dark navy
Dotted with rhinestone sparkle

Tree tops, great kings standing
Black shadow arms outstretched
Pointing toward their
Silver god

The night is deep, tranquil
All in the forest give pause
Nature’s beauty awake
While angels sleep

Then the sweet song
Of the brook
Lends cause for the frogs’ chanting
Their spring celebration

The chorus reaches a crescendo
Only to be broken off mid-air
By the lumbering low growl of a truck
On a journey north

The great kings wave their arms in the wind
And let go a whistling cry
For fallen kings
Broken, dismembered upon the truck’s back