A thousand conversations in my ears,
snatches of words, flashes of colour
and the whole ground shaking.
My ground
is turning, thrown up and down
with no chance to recover
before the world is split in two
and my heartbeat
is both silent and rampant.
Unable to process what’s going on,
detachment takes hold
forcing breath into my lungs
and oxygen to my head.
I look up and see the sky.
Calm, blue and trimmed
with a neat green beard.
Ice flows forward to crash
against my ankles,
bringing with it the lull of evening.
The voices, now tired, begin to settle.
even as the roar continues.
Eventually
they take the leap and merge
with the shadows. Dark.
Tied with the night.
Treeshallow Musings 