Editor Christopher Writes – #PoemADayForAYear: 18/06/15

Here is a poem.






The glass apple’s skin stretches and sighs

in the heat after rain, deep in

the forest where the trees’s barks glisten

like moonstone.

Melancholy has fused itself to every molecule

of air, each one an amber-pulse ‘neath

silken-purple skies.

Autumn-shot leaves rustle on the

forest floor as all manner of noses

twitch at the petrichor fog

sweeping through, leaving

invisible prints on everything it touches.

The glass apple sighs once more.

Blue-green branches ache under its weight

and liberates it. A small crack dampens

in the vacuum created as every air molecule

rushes to break its momentum towards

the ground. They settle it safely

and as it rests, the glass apple’s skin

splits into immeasurable pieces.

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