It’s in the water, in the air here

the leaves not alone in their dying

softened ground where shades wander

drawn to candlelight in the trees ahead

burning, sputtering

Epitaphs along the road

chiseled into clay and cast aside

where we walk and watch the clouds

wishing it would rain and never stop

Underfoot the dead and dying and newborn

crawl just alive enough to feel and listen

to the coming storm

and its promise in the air of drowning

Photo by Roksolana Zasiadko on Unsplash

5 responses to “Underfoot”

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