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Sonnet to a Forest Home
Randy Hude
The gravestones strewn by Nature’s random whim,
Hearty trees
sprouting darkness in day,
A harmony looms
lightly, an ethereal hymn;
Minds ponder
Fate in this burial-place.
Attempt we
to leave through magical arts,
Forgetting
at once the natural course,
That none may
escape this funeral march,
Try as we might,
there is no recourse.
Though the
stones have divorced the names
And the flesh
been devoured by earth,
Because their
angelic ballad remains,
Wandering souls
discover a festive hearth.
Between these dark trees sable spirits roam,
Maintaining eternally this forest home.
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