Hidden Spaces
What lurks beneath the still, black waters?
Predators hum through trembling ripples—
a hymn spun from fallen leaves.
Silence shudders at the scrape of feet,
a passerby’s fleeting trespass.
Even the toads choke back their songs.
Mist smothers the summer heat,
thick as breath, thick as sleep.
Moss gnaws the path to ruin—
slick and greedy underfoot.
Where, here, can the quiet last?
Gnawed to bones by needle-teeth,
feasted upon in the lush.