when winter steps in

the air becomes thin

sunshine creeps into the forest


the blackbirds will come

they have it their run

no one there now will dare protest


life has all gone!

it followed the sun

none in the wake but what dearest


the blackbirds don’t care

as strangers they are

beachcomers – born again tourists


the tide now gone out

they pillage about

the leftover litter they harvest


this now their own

their privy space – home!

this is alone their own forest


if pressed to an ear

you might maybe hear

the life was once there but now barest


a whitespace erased

now loud in its place

before is no more hits the hardest


this is now then

the primeval forest

unreal is the real and before us

©2014, Marvin Welborn

10 June 2014


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