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  • Thomas Kam

dawn redwood at sunset

blackened, wizened, deep-based thing

the late light scratches scarlet grooves

in to the trunk


and there are ancient reservoirs

of fingernails

and secret human stories


and the wind

is a blind carpenter


and the turning earth

an eraser


and the sky the skin of an eye

blinking away

civilisations

and centuries

like grit


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NatashaL08
NatashaL08
May 16

So stunning. Your poems speak directly to the soul of things that the mind has forgotten. Thank you for sharing.

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