by James Christensen
Amethyst beads emerge
From a deep sea of foliage.
Wind loses its voice amidst
The sunset, and turns into a quiet breeze.
A tall tree stands alone,
The victor of the forest wars.
Its chocolate trunk stands still,
As its leaves fade into the distance.
The sunset surrenders,
Disappearing like a building in an earthquake.
Its exotic colours disappear,
An orange flame into midnight ash.
A woven basket lays in the violet sea,
Its willow twigs tell a life, an ancestry.
Beneath the sea lies another world
Of lime leaves and exotic critters.
As the clouds turn transparent,
The wind takes its last breath.
The eggplant ocean blackens and vanishes.
Mist goes on the nightwatch, guarding the subterranean greens.