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Sanctuary Wood
by Marcus LaneBeech trees like cathedral pillars soar
To vaulted ceilings oozing dapple-green,
Where twinkling sunlight, filtering to the floor
Dilutes the dusky darkness in between.
A concert hall, acoustically tuned
To amplify each tremorous touch of stick
On wood, where silent magic is cocooned,
Responding to the scuffled tap and tick
From scrunching undergrowth, where dusty death
And dried decay seep back to nature’s store,
To resuscitate with pungent earthy breath
The spirit of the leafy forest floor.
03/11/2010 Posted on 03/11/2010
Copyright © 2024 Marcus Lane
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Charlotte Smith on 03/12/10 at 04:56 AM I love the imagery of "dapple-green," but "filt'ring" is trying too hard. Why include the apostrophe? It doesn't make the meter work better... |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 03/13/10 at 04:05 PM You've picked one of the most magnificent of trees, the beech. The vocabulary here fits its "station" in the forest - just marvelous, as is the circle of life given by that last line. Thank you. |
| Posted by Julie Adams on 03/18/10 at 11:08 AM what a magical forest wonderland you build herein, this piece breathes out the oxygen of a world you create so well...I can feel the leaves and twigs underfoot and I traverse this poem...kudos, an instant favorite for me...hugs, jewels xoxox |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 03/19/10 at 05:43 PM You write of this so well that the aroma comes into my psyche. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 03/19/11 at 03:00 PM Good to see this as POTD! |
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