The Colours of Me

Ghostly shapes loom in and out

of the early morning mist

a smothering eerie silence

A dilapidated truck leans

drunkenly

shakes off its hangover

Its throaty roar

arouses

the dawn chorus

First sign of the work ahead

It’s a man’s job

He grasps his metal chain

Each link

holds tight the hopes

of his chainsaw gang

Each felled trunk

sawn down in its prime

hoisted

one by one to safety

As evening draws near

a pile of rounds

aged worn

in fine ringed detail

wait forlornly as the fog rolls in

For another dawn

another day

Open wounds, bleeding sap.

~~~

Words by Amanda Edwards  Images by Niki

We won the November Words/Photo challenge.

Yay! 

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