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In the Woods, Lichen Falls Quietly
by KB Ballentine
In the woods, lichen falls quietly,
invisible in ferny shadow.
Mountain laurel masks red flutes
of columbine under cascading petals.
Night unravels, moonshine dissolving
and I swallow my dreams,
a handful of dust crusting my eyes.
Morning's bright berry envelopes
the remnant of sleep,
tackles stubble and sweat
until I unlock the front door,
coffee bittering the mock orange,
day fracturing the horizon.