The Jungle

There is a place
Where floras blend
And golden specks
Of light descend
Through countless waves
Of darkened green
And all appears
To be serene
As feathered shrieks
And chattered call
Both warn of coils
Which twist and crawl
With lethal stealth
Among the vines
While far below
Fate intertwines
As furtive prey
In fear withdraw
From stalking death
Of fang and claw
And newborns stir
On mossy green
Where life is heard
But seldom seen.

1 thought on “The Jungle

  1. Louis Kasatkin

    ” The Jungle ” , demonstrates a consummate ease of ryhme and anineffable mastery of the short narrative. It would also make for an ideal live performance piece should the thought ever cross the author’s mind.

    Reply

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