NaPoWriMo #7: Torrent

A trickle of water
on a bed of pebbles

nourished by nothing,
sheltered by the trees,

one drop
to quench the thirst,

the rains descend,
drench the forest

while mountains weep
and streams tumble,

all engulfed in a torrent,
tumbling down the cliffs

barreling its way
down the gorges

till every pebble
lies submerged,

the once deep gully
now fit to burst

with white surf lashing
the undergrowth

as the rapids explode,
lay claim to the soil,

the bushes, the brambles,
the mud, the mole hills,

their veins burst, spilling
lifeblood of the earth

across the soaking forest,
down to the river,

and even the fish
are swept up

and get lost
in the long grass.

NaPoWriMo #9: Sapling

A sapling
sits
in stream-fed
soil.
It takes
its time growing,

overshadowed
by her sisters
thirty years
ahead.

A young birch
watches the forst
transform
through spring
to winter
without

a whisper.
She endures frost,
summer heat,
dripping sap

from insect-inflicted
wounds,
stripes of survival.

A hundred years on,
the forest shrinks
to a grove,
but the birch
still stands,
observing.

Howling

They howl in the night
when no animal stirs,

they howl in the darkness
where all sounds blur.

They hunt down the weak,
the small and the defenceless,

with such ferocity
to bend a victim's senses.

Eyes electrified at night,
ghostly forms in the trees,

the bravest of beasts
all fall to their knees.

The woods they haunt
are in their autumn throes,

and their presence besets
all manner of woes,

they clad the forest
in a cloak of screams,

then slip away silently
never again to be seen.