National Poetry Month - Day 3

Walking the valley of metallic trees
iron trunks and copper-coated branches;

the air heavy with electrons, bouncing
the frenzied whirl of loose atoms.

They are quiet in their excursion picking
their way through the thickest part this night

both shoulder backpacks and weeks of burdens
heading without direction towards: escape.

Weaving moonlight in their footsteps,there are no maps in their strides
only purpose and a plan directed towards daybreak.