The sun at the woodsman’s back
as he stood determined on the cusp
of the trees expanding deep,
millions of soldiers
giving their praise to the sun god,
millions of soldiers
marching motionless into the horizon,
millions of soldiers
awaiting the fell of destruction.
The sun at the woodsman’s back
as he donned the devil’s guise
and stood as divine executioner.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Poem-A-Day: Day 194
The Woodsman’s Plight
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