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see Pine Forest in Shroud © 2014 Bo Mackison
enter site Nothing stands in isolation.
Experiences, stories, a life time of truths.
source Traveling in a forest in fog. Water droplets suspended in the atmosphere, my vision
obscured as I peer fiercely through the mist. To no avail. Not a glimmer or a ghost.
https://lpgventures.com/qdxjfsru Moisture permeates the dried, the desiccated. Ragged and spent.
https://paradiseperformingartscenter.com/gmumqg6a A pulpy mix of leaf litter, feathers, tiny skeletons and detritus.
Life and death and the in-between takes on many forms.
enter A shudder up my spine, bone to bone. And I recall
my grandmother’s shivery words under similar circumstances
source site “Someone walkin’ over my grave.” She’d shake her head, eyes closed,
and chew her cracked lip. Back away from trouble.
https://www.mbtn.net/?p=dlm9n028r I hold out my bare hands in supplication. Help me.
The trees shiver in winter’s wind.
Tramadol Ordering Water drops, sanctified in the sodden oak leaves,
sprinkle upon my bare head and I continue my passage through.
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