from the edge of the sun

28 May

something has entered my

jungle

first the oldest

of my faithful

strangler fig

creaked

and groaned

to the

red hawk

who then screamed

across my sky

red and orange

to bring the

storm

something has begun to

find paths

in my jungle

plant flowering

vines

in my jungle

disrupting

the watchful

drummers

who have lived here

for centuries

in my jungle

collecting arrowheads

from my war

placing them under

its tongue

the swallows dove

in intricate patterns

planting hope flowers

to make my bed

the slugs gathered

under my feet

formed a chain

to hold up

the night

still

something has entered my

jungle

and

now i am

awake

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