In the gentle space where the day lingers in dusky hues,
The Sun lying shallowly cradled between Earth and Sky.
Rain of emerald tears pierce the canopy true,
Tumbling to the resonant forest floor.
Where hemlocks and cedars merely exist,
Nestled within empty comfort.
Tender roots mingling, yet touching not
Among fiery regret and desires untold.
The emerald tears with one last effort beckon:
Rising then from thick silence,
Where even a flutter can be heard;
A visceral pull allowing all to emerge from the settled dusk.
To be awakened once more by the billowy stillness which seeps beneath and transforms once again.
And new quiet is then pondered through the last breath of the day.