Approaching a House in the Cool Evening
I’m caught, mid step, by the lattice work
tiny wood planks interlocked
holding hands, passing over and under
form and function in tandem
drowning in green chaos, unaware
of the waxy verdant tendons
               strangling them.

Desperately those vines climb
towards a sun they anticipate
but cannot know in this darkness,
the ambitions of the young – the restless
trapezing over the dormant dreams
of the old dead gods that once stood
tall
proud
fierce
and free
that once reached for the same sun
               for a life that could never be.