Second Cease Fire

Opening the Iron Gate my feet trace
a path round silent ponds,
through black stands of blasted trees
rumbling from the smoke of winter’s war
flinging out naked branches
tipped by the solstice sun.

All is silence! No rustle of leaf, wing or
clink of feet scatters stray stones,
stirs this moment of equality –
seasonal ceasefire!
I walk on almost fearing fire
as a flicker of wing catches my gaze.

The path reveals a seat, I pause:
a coo calls “come” – a signal
returned by a trill as the wood erupts
with a cantata springing unseen
as all the hidden throats emerge

to fill the afternoon with hope.

© Carolyn O’Connell

View guest contributor Carolyn O’Connell’s bio HERE

Author:

I am a freelance writer, poet, content editor, and blogger. I also manage "The BeZine" thebezine.com and its associated activities and The Poet by Day jamiededes.com, an info hub for writers meant to encourage good but lesser-known poets, women and minority poets, outsider artists, and artists just finding their voices in maturity. The Poet by Day is dedicated to supporting freedom of artistic expression and human rights. Email thepoetbyday@gmail.com for permissions, commissions, or assignments.

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