In the Sleep of Woods

Lime lichen
grows on a thin dead trunk,

a burrowed bird
inside a tree

its feathers
wooden

like a curse
stunned it

as it searched
for grubs.

A broken stump.

Fallen branches
on a bare bough

make a cross;
a rotting trunk

on the grass
below

inside
wilderness.

Birds scatter

find a place
to sleep.

At night
in a breeze

the dead pass,

fall
on the ground,

let new buds be.

In the Sleep of Woods Banner Image

Ion Corcos

Ion Corcos

Ion Corcos has been published in Every Writer, Axolotl, Bitterzoet, Ishaan Literary Review and other fine journals. Ion loves travelling, and with his partner, Lisa, recently bought one-way tickets to Greece. They intend to write and travel indefinitely.
Ion Corcos

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  • Lisa Reily

    Beautiful images in this poem, Ion. I love the line ‘At night in a breeze the dead pass…”