Next to the river bank, I awake
With the scent of death upon my brow.
Droplets shatter against the gray waters
As the ghosts of the forests lull over the drenched leaves.
Palms clammy, feet soaked in viscous mud
Eyes full of nightmares long forgotten
Staring into the ominous fog,
While the ripples guide souls to the crypt.
The granite rocks, lodged next to the split roots,
Soft earth ready to swallow
This river is uncharted,
Untouched by the wayward wanderer
Know where the delta lies,
Only accessible when the sun is gone,
Lost in the deep horizon.
The clouds come down,
to spirit away those who sleep in the woods
At the dusk,
Saying farewell in their final, frosted winter.