Buried

People kneel down rather than raising

eyes to the sky. Clarity in nature has been taken

from our hands. Though the trees drop their leaves

in prayer, gnarled people walk past and notice

the fall, a warning outstretched to the young.

A quick extract from one of the poems that’s up on Patreon already. If you want to read dozens of my poems all you need to do is head over here.

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