MUSED Literary Magazine.
Poetry

Evergreen

Jody Zolli

We wake in the early bright
Rouse to sip the sun
Sap rising we bestir our boughs.

Childrenīs cries echo
Below outstretched limbs
First a flurried stop and go
Then lying soft and lazy.

Trickling laughter
Through swaying shadows
Their tiny fingers tracing
The ancient braille of our bark.

Scattering homewards late
Sun sinks bittersweet
Shades the sky to apricot and carmine
All sounds ebb to silence.

At twilight we turn inwards
Sap retires to august roots
Breezes sigh at waterīs edge
Draw brisk familiar fingers
Between fleeting needles.

Moon wanders wayward overhead
Mirrored in our placid pond
Lapping at fixed feet
Day now done, we drink deep.

We do our best growing in the dark.