It's His Woods In Her Forest; Poem by James McLain

It's his woods in her forest;
That my eyes have seen inside of her two parts.
Softly talking, themselves, webbed in collusion.
Golden those leaves hold out two worlds, upside
down in moon cups, sleepless those voices.
Many, many trees, cotton woods, brown tanned.
Squirrels nests hang down so full with birds at play.
Between the bark the cracks are deep, and the smell
of sticky sap, thick puddled grainy is warm heady.
Most who pass by, push there fingers deep inside it.
Then reach down to wipe it, along in smears, so tacky
in the middle of every where, loved between each touch.
While the trees
grow very deep I thought and live within her forest.