Sunday, August 7, 2011

It lured them close...


Movement in the distance,
waving branches
of pine
after a winter storm
heavily laden
But buoyant. Waving in
a circular motion,
like it’s on a parade rout.
Back forth up and down
All in one motion—hypnotic
And enticing, calming and reassuring.
But it was not friendly,
Whatever impression it was meant to give.
Perhaps that was its hidden talent;
Like a Venus fly trap. It looked like succulent
Rotting flesh, until it snapped closed
On helpless insects.
The waving branches
Could be of that ilk
Luring those who wished to see
nature’s grandeur
Up close to an untimely death.

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