come closer said the woods and so
we did quieting ourselves to hear
their wind-bare branches secrets
stirring around around around
tiptoeing to a brittle edge we leaned
in listening to the hesitant groan of
feet on ancient wide-plank floors
glancing upward toward the source
we waited while the sun dropped
through a pale lemon sky we waited
while the forest bent and flexed and
sighed growing impatient we began
to turn away just as the answers we
despaired of emerged in wordless
dance then in afternoon’s last light
we turned toward home a nascent
truth entwined in our clapsed hands
(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
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