“The woods sound different here”

---

I sit on a porch surrounded by forest.

The creaks tell stories.

Tales of battles lost and won on grounds where,

once there were none.

Traffic zooms by behind,

but still the trees speak,

Louder than a motorcycle’s intensity.

These trees are different from the ones up north.

Still as old,

but they have damaged souls that cry forth,

Oh so loudly.