the story is strange :: the stream i walk in, beyond reach

 

shall the dead in our eyes see only clear skies

seedling of another species :: is the language that i speak

why is the mottled sun a sickness of my eye

 

 

who dares to know their eggshell guards an unenlightened dawn

 

i remember

trees in joy

and the sane wonder of being mown

 

three sequence poems published today by Heliosparrow!

 

spirit jumping from puddle to blood—

and inside my trees

a joyful scream