THE COLD EARTH

By Ann Reeg Adamson

I want to lie on my back on a bed of pine needles, Feeling them oily, sticking to my legs, And breathe in their cleansing scent.

I want to breathe deeply under the looming trunks, Their towering columns framing the night sky, Giving a stage to this starry night.

I want the air to be so cold that my nostrils

Stick in slits when I attempt to inhale,

And my teeth chatter, masking my fear, The night silent as the pause after a gasp of air.

I want to lie perfectly still while small creatures, alive,

Nestle in the crevice where my warm body touches the cold ground.

Beetles and sleek snakes, seeking warmth, Birds perching, flexing their wings yet songless, And a lone quizzical fox curling beneath my arm.

I want to be sought for the comfort of my living heat,

And yet still feel alone, away, distant from the bitter hell of man,

Alone in the vast silence,

Welcome and safe in the great cold Earth.

#DarkPoetsClub