Borderline (Shepley Woods)
In the woods we are borders of our own creation
a witness to a different scene
translations from black to white
bridging an interlude in silence,
incited roots pulling us back in time
syllables taking us back in time
mazes covered leading to rivers and hills
like out-stretched arms
ghosts without shadows
of different generations
where walkers rarely ramble
and how the land enshrines all before it.
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