old-growth

cathedral branches, absorbing each others’ silence like moss absorbs rain.
then suddenly the forest trembles with the weight of water.

years of fog-laden quiet,
but now the trees have taken to sleeplessness.
they stay up at night, tossing and turning,
hurling great yawns of frustration at the ceiling,
tremors coursing through their roots,
falling into fitful sleep only at pre-dawn,
waking covered in damp,
rolling off lady bugs and beetles and ancient hurt,
misty sunlight caught in suspension between their branches.

Chiara Klein
Durham, NC
Hometown: Warwick, NY