Sunday, April 01, 2012

Vinelogy - 1

Happy April 1st! This is my first stab at poetry in a while so I'm a little rusty but here goes. I wasn't too sure about the formatting or the structure. I guess I can work on that. Thanks for looking.

They say that in the tropics woody vines take root, grow thunderous and fast, block sunlight, cover and compete with trees for water and air.

But it is not tropical here. It is terraced and cold. 

I wake to the sound of nesting crows deep in the damp dark chimney, and I hide under covers like a worm beneath ground. Roots nurture and stretch like hands, they cling and hug whatever they can hold. They reach like fingers, resemble veins, criss-cross like a forest path or flow like a cool crisp stream. They branch out, slither and snake, all leathery and coarse.

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