The evergreens quake and sway,
bowed by thunderous winds.
The river roars, gushing geysers of ice
shooting forth from its depths
A bough breaks,
crumbling into the tumble below.
The snap of pine cuts
through the dark depths of chaos,
rendering still the passage of time.
Are we not the evergreens?
Are we not the iced daggers coming to
freeze and shatter?
We are the frayed bough,
the wilted limb.
We fall back to earth
and dissolve into dust.
We settle and sleep,
returning the time.
We bleed into new roots
fortifying what will grow to reach the sky.
From earth, we return to the stars.
~Kate Cummings, 2018
Writer, Editor & Content Creator