A splintered sunset in salmon skies
stuck in my paws which are rubbing my eyes.
Obfuscating bark parts to reveal
the dark of the woods til the next dawn will rise.
For now, owls perch on branches of teal,
sharing the secrets that night will conceal.
The morning fire kindles the smouldering shade
whilst phantom embers attempt to appeal.
And so in the day, more secrets are made
by that one star who refuses to fade,
yet the day also swears that he will not tell
as the trees protect light with their palisade.
And so time went in a coherent spell,
until the secrets spilt and the first tree fell.
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