Mag 262 — Green God

You see, I see you
you mossy green god
and god how I love you,
you with trunks to spare
and that wild white eye
beneath your unicorn horn

You see me ignoring your
comical grimace as I come
near to whisper into your
elfin ear god how I love you

You raise your forked tail
into the green canopy,
grasping to feel the rays
of the sun and

You coax out the stars
from a midnight sky to
cool under as I unroll
my bag to sleep beneath
you with your claws as a
mossy green pillow

You show me visions in my
dreams of the story of your
old forest grove, the sad story
how you came to be lone elder

You see then that I see you
and how your grimace formed
and why you grew your giant
elfin ear to maybe, maybe
hear across the fields for
messages from your type

You stretch deeper and farther
beyond the tender young ones
and grasses, reaching for eternity,
showing earth how you love her



Written for The Mag: Mag 262 that inspired with the above image prompt.

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Friday Flash 55 — last stand huddles

they huddle by Fighter Ross


You know how sometimes when you are trying to pee —
but can't —
you think of running water?

Here we are, the last stand of old growth
in this forest.
When you see us standing in the ice storm
think of us as saplings among
thousands of elders —
protected
from winter,
oblivious
to the
summer axe.

Written for Friday Flash 55 - My post in exactly 55 words - for the G-Man.

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