the stifling quiet
the soporific torpidity
that gently presses my ears
forcing blood to thump
like kettle drums
upon my crown,
I unsuccessfully keen
for that distant secretive
tremulous knocking
ventriloquism in the trees,
the best I might hope for
is a chaotic splash of crimson
the briefest lick of a flame
within the green wood
before the muted torpor returns
and the spell lies broken
*
© Graham Sherwood 12/2020
grahamrichardsherwood.co.uk 
I really like the tone of this Graham. There is a pining(excuse the pun) for natures secrets to be shared. Heightened no doubt by restrictions. Dramatic and real. My head is in Dylan Thomas today so you are in good company. ! Have a nice Xmas.
LikeLike