dead things can lead to nourishment

Volcanic ash layers up to form blackened earth in which things grow eventually.

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Flighty 

Bird black eyes follow me dot to dot to dot. Unfurl heaven feathers in a real place, clipped to bodies with quick-paced hearts that live a short but lofty lifetime.

Waterway

Trickle, stream,

Over the stones

Wet the path you follow

As you hit your stride,

Sway side to side and cut your name.

 

Rush river,

To the sea,

Whirl the stones around

As you carve deeper,

Denting the landscape

Making a new place

Between surface and bed.

 

Bigger fish live in you now

With gaping mouths

As you reach yours

and thrash happy into sea.

Cleft

The tree grew around Gary and he didn’t struggle, he was glad to be hemmed in.

The walls shot up in growing panels and clicked into natural place,

he was enveloped in the smooth, the woody gnarls on the outside, protecting him from the elements, and a wooden smile etched into his face.

Bill had planted the seed, and when he found Gary set inside so perfect, he wished he’d hacked more heartily with his hatchet.

He imagined Gary like the hazelnut in a toffee, cut in perfect half, and the wooden smile jumped across, rooting, delving, fingers rifling in his nut.