Wild Fiction

Whispering ground
Where an animal comes to eat and look around

Talking once maybe before escaping

A crowd of golden eyes sees only a shrinking backside
But it's enough for to tell

Someone comes to pull on my scrap metal earring

Spirits and hungry animals
I want to recognize you but I can't

Spirits and hungry animals
I want to recognize you but I can't

Left hand with the ring of the land and purple trees
Crack the window face uncertainty with smiling ease

Move and stack boxes

Put it over here

Rest while my other self unpacks
Shows me something to look at or sort

He's the one they call the chief worker
He crossed a mighty river to get here
From a place nearby
Where they work harder

When he first spoke I couldn't understand the dialect
He couldn't eat a lot
I cooked for him

He had some sort of unhealth
I could only know because he was aware of it himself

While wiggling his toes he thought that he was going to die
So we agreed to stay together until that time

Which he thought to be soon
And I knew to be far away

All afternoon I looked for him
I took a trip to the mountains and found him

He stressed that he was leaving soon
Where to?

You can flirt with the other side from here
We trade photos
And more may know outside the three of us

Pests have been lately

These grey worms
Eat the fruit and the leaves

There are places where the fruit is better
But after a long walk this is heaven