• A violent evergreen thicket
    Heavy with silence, dense with tense energy.
    Yet to spring forward with warm blood in loamy soil!
    The fox, nimble and clever, punctures eggshell fang into a rapidly pumping breast,
    Which slows with the reluctant calming of death.

    The acceptance of futility against a much-too-formidable force of nature.
    It is a bitter bite, cold but consuming, stinging the flesh and soul like cold wind against your bare face.
    An icy wave on a beaten shore.
    And as the particles of sand were once great stone spires,
    So too a consciousness dissolves into a backdrop, helpless beneath the inertia of frigid brine.
    The pounding of a thought that heavy, settling like great clumps of mud and tempering back to solid earth.

    Life is reclaimed by the sea, and too, by the fox.
    A torch passed from the sun to the chloroplasts and phils
    To the small creatures, dull toothed that grind them, then to the fox through warm blood,
    Dripping from its maw.

    As the waves reclaim life foolish enough to venture from their safety,
    As the soil reclaims the heat held in the breast and tendons of a greedy chipmunk,
    As the forest reclaims the silence of a conflict past, it is a stillness.

    A tension, which waits amist action.