Lit Mag Poetry

Overshone

Overshone

In the silent, stirring, woods,

Where squirrels store snacks

Scavenged from spiny shrubs

Stability is secured.

‘Till tuesday told a tale

Of a sun too high, too bright,

The light taking territory

To terrify trees grown too tall.

A burning blight burying land,

Brown became breathtaking fire, 

And bushes burrow beneath ashes

White blithe to the burden Black bears.

Darkness drowned the day no more,

Hateful heathens hindering harmony,

A perfect place and peaceful people,

Noise of nightmares, negative no longer.

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