The forest was an insect mix of salad hues
Emerald green, lime, beige and brown
against an upward sky of blue
A canopy of secrets
where copper toned girls whirled
their babes on hips,
and birdsong sang in the treetop tips
Frogs and toads jumped in the streams
flirt chirping sounds exhaled on breeze,
and raven haired ghosts beat rhythm drum thrones
that begged to **** the life from marrow bones
And then, as dusk began to fade,
into the village, out of the shade,
they'd gather as community and feast
murmuring their feathered history
in white tailed tongues
while dancing 'round the fires ring they rung
Then padding back to huts making their fists
to taste a puffy lipped sweetwater kiss
and harness dreams while riding in the
smoke chopped down from
Mother Earth's charcoal black oaks

Written by Sara Fielder © May 2012