Man Dressed like a Forest

Man Dressed like a Forest

Finally, rain is expected Wednesday.
It’s been weeks since we had a drop.
The grass is dry & brittle
like a nicotine stained moustache;
it scrunches with each step
— the sound tells me i live.

There is one here dressed like a forest.
His thirst must be slaked.
Hear the hoarseness in his throat,
the exaggerated gulp, to shake out
the crux from his paragraphs
—the thirst tells him he lives.

Rain came, hasping to Thursday.
The man dressed like a forest
still pressed, drily by time. The sun came,
i mowed the lawn & smelling
an effigy of sun in the pores
of my skin it dawned on me,

why i won’t
go home.

6 Comments Add yours

  1. kvennarad says:

    I know the bloke.

    1. He gets about as a metaphor.

  2. Bonsai says:

    I really like this one Mr. Marshall. I am all about trees.

    1. We should all be so enthusiastic, we wouldn’t be much without them. Good to hear from you.

      1. Bonsai says:

        Thank you. I’ve had a few quiet weeks in the woods.

      2. Lucky you. The photo is a pine forest near my home in England, i miss it there.

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