Soundscape of the Deep Woods

by Brian U. Garrison

Out where the forest folk chat with the frogs.
Where tree spirits masquerade under wild winds.
When the jukebox serenades the sapling grove,
the surging mudmen swim up-creek to seek
their long-lost partners of the swamp.

Tall pines unfurl their legs, revealing
dark marks and the memory of fire.
But a shimmering, calming balm arises.
Strands of silky mist wrap tight to form
a dress for a full night of waltzing.

The ambience oscillates, unknown to human ears,
casting timbers that scratch the immutable,
weaving harmonics that entangle the soul.
The transient vibrato of starlight coiling.
The opalescent resonance of synchronous salamanders.

The madcap mushrooms, in their perfect stillness,
cause the moss to totter and toss a toxic vortex
of spores—a careful chaos that mesmerizes even
forest visitors who cannot hear it. A ragged cacophony,
it drags the wayward mudmen trundling back.

Abandoning their hunt, they gurgle a marshy tune.
They jazz and joke with flora and fauna until
on the horizon, rising, the rays of daylight
devour the crystal mists, and the pines
return to swaying like plain old pines.

Brian U. Garrison (he/him) writes poetry for children, adults, and grand adults. His work has appeared in Asimov's, Ember Journal, Fantasy & Science Fiction, Haikuniverse, Science Write Now, Star*Line, and elsewhere. His first chapbook is New Yesterdays, New Tomorrows (self-published) and his second is in the works, Micropoetry for Microplanets (Space Cowboy Books). He serves as Managing Editor for the online quarterly Eye to the Telescope. Find him in Portland, Oregon or online. www.bugthewriter.com