For Fran

Mottled stone
from ancient forest
...fir trees as
living histories
of landscape.
Ancient stone
lifted from its place
warmed by human touch
joins other displaced testimonies
in the pocket of a traveler.
...trying to remember
cool dampness of the
forest floor...
passes from
one to the other.
Token of a place unseen,
friendship becomes its name.

by Jessica Claydon

Other poems of JESSICA CLAYDON (2)

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