Lords of the Forest

Free verse

Photo by Krzysztof Maksimiuk on Unsplash

The edge of evening bends

now the forest buzz begins
thick with lust
no maestro in these trees because

everything that lives must sing
for all its life, till it ends, so

cicadas screech and fireflies
float aglow as owls

hoo

above fresh caverns where below
colonies plow the soil
chatter

like a clutch of ladies trading recipes and gossip.

We douse the night with human song
as drumbeats fly above trimmed lawns
and lights spill free like pick-up lines

out of nightclubs wedged
on midtown avenues—

We who pose as lords live loud

above the life that feeds our blood.