Last Night

It hooks on and tugs. It must challenge. That’s its nature.
A continual challenge that you harbor and would die without, eventually. I died.

Dead one is fertile the next.
Ferns spring with time-lapse effects.

The cold place, the sun was only bright.
The skin was fresh as newborn skin, felt foreign somehow coating my flesh.

Dew cleared eye opening
Droplets dripped down condensed from dew.

Bodies lie but soil lies
Back in that theatrical stage, the bark reaches out of sight and vegetation crawls.