That deadly, cracking sound
in the bushes as I walk
down this well-trodden pathway
stirs my stomach and curdles my blood.
The darkness closes in on what was
once bright, vibrant, radiating energy.
This forest, exempt from its emerald green,
now a mass of grey, cracking edges.
Spires which remind me that summer's long gone
and the long nights have settled.
by Oli Thompson