Barbara Pease
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Nova Scotia Evening

My steps in a thickening dusk are lost
along the bottom of an aged forest floor
where darkness covers branch and moss.
I walk where few have gone before.

Hemlocks gathering before the wind
growing in darkened stands, limbs outright
and densely locking, harboring each its find --
its comfort within the embracing night.

A tree lies fallen in twisted branches.
Lichens creep as pale green sprites.
Hemlock yields to an earthen might.
In stillness, emerald moss advances.

Thrashing brush, wings beat in flight.
An owl awakens to begin the night.