By Ben Pickard and Maple Tree
A small acorn, from my nature soul...
Rain mists onto a moonlit asphalt path
twisting through silhouetted trunks...
In the lap of nature
peace serenades...
I slip into your inky blackness
You steal away my despair...
I walked deeper into the twilight where
the moon peeps through clouds, like...
Thistle thorns from stems it mourns -
flicker many a tulip head...
Trees are shedding
lifeless leaves...
Conspicuous formations
Lining the skies...
So beautiful
dying leaf...
Needles prick softly along my spine
just before Autumn, pine cones whisper...
From a nut
To a stem...
I've grown petals, only to watch them fall...
like...