Sanctum

Wave once more, distant sun! Cool air
shivers the evergreen, shoulders bare,
where rays of light now flinch afraid;
lichen grows, in veiled nooks of shade,
where woods, are clad in April leaf,
as the day ends, her time now brief.
In the night, lone here, sometimes I
can hear nature breathing, even sigh;
ferns brim, this trail along the way,
while the deer, lingers nigh and stay,
and rock, where green moss will cast,
nods ‘neath, with drowsy lids at last.

© Roxi St. Clair