Whose woods are these? I think I know-
it belongs to the birds and the deer
Wandering idly through the midst
of green-yellow-orange leaves
and marshy swamps

Bare broken branches
like bones, snapped
and stripped of their flesh
lay sorrowfully below
the trees
who mourn their losses

Day lies on her deathbed
her face a ghastly yellow
as she breathes
shallow breaths
of cold, cold air

Her lips kiss the sky
pink
one more time
and she’s gone

Night takes over
a kind twinkle in her eyes
softly whispers lullabies
to the deer and the birds

as bats swoop
owls screech
and crickets chirp.
This is their woods
after all.