jeff barth

Secret Garden

There are sirens in my forrest shrieking and pressing against the peaceful leaves and branches that hold up the night sky.

The giant oaks sigh as sleep slips away from them hiding in the porch light as shadows on my neighbors lawn.

The firs that stand up like statues bookending our yard, swaying with fatique and wish for thier dreams of a giggling mountain brook that could sing them to sleep.

A marble bag full of stars and a thin slice of moon climb upon a saucer size piece of sky ab

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