The Night Life Of Trees (Poetry)

Against the charcoal canvas of the sky
a multitude of serpent branches writhe —
rub themselves with restless leaves and air
their whispered conversations hissed on high
to creatures roosting — feathers pressed against
and drawing warmth from wood’s bare element.

All sway together under cloud or stars —
the big-eyed owl — the hanging half-blind bat
and moths that bumble twig to braille-notched twig
to find a willing mate amongst the maze
of flicking tongues — an insect buffet feast
for every famished night-marauding beast.

As busy as any city thoroughfare
each crowded tree swarms vital as an ark
and keeps its records faithful to its kind —
grey mysteries and histories half-known
to watchers who perceive life after dark —
those spirits with true vision all their own.