selva oscura

what can be managed will take so much work
that we might find ourselves back in the dark
not only worried about making mark
but fearful of a hand holding a dirk
our only purpose skulking in the murk
is nothing that would seem evil or stark
the tree is told not only by its bark
but by the mosses and the birds that lurk
far from the safety of the sallow light
in places where the spiders seem to speak
and all the creatures fear what they might say
their shadows now are darker than the night
their distant odour makes us all feel weak
and none expects again to see the day