Page 90 of Into the Heartless Wood
it listens,
lets me pass.
Here, the trees grow so close together
their trunks are tangled up, so that I cannot tell one apart from another.
Moss thrives on exposed roots and worn stones,
russet brown, daffodil yellow.
The air is dense and still.
There are no birds,
no deer,
no creatures of any kind.
I have strayed into a part of the wood
that does not wholly answer to my mother.
Beyond the trees
the rain stops,
the clouds break,
the day brightens.
Light filters through the leaves,
casting dappled shadows on the ground.
The sound of rushing water reaches my ears.
I come into a clearing, where a waterfall crashes into a shining pool.
Colored rocks gleam
beneath the surface.
I kneel on the bank,
drink my fill.
When I straighten again, one of my brothers is there,
watching me across the pool.
He is tall and thin,
his brown skin raised with ridges and whorls.
Dark green hair spills past his shoulders.
His silver robe looks to be spun from spider silk,
