We beg the darkening clouds to scatter -
let the forest breathe with light.
see-saw and splay as
light patterns flicker
Light crackles on pinecone, snail-shell,
on limbs of cypress, larch, and spruce,
finding sanctuary, to lie sated,
sharp-scented on the tongue.
Light smudges skin with amber,
lands softly on mushroom and moss,
unveils the feather’s perfect marl,
the sage-like serenity of lichen.
We beg the darkening clouds to scatter,
and the forest breathes with light.
Poetry copyright © Frances Ainslie 2021