FOREST MONARCH Laura “Elms” Elmsquist
A heavy cloak of moss, ferns, and brush is draped over the shoulders of the ruler of the forest They have been chosen. Fallen leaves and fragrant earth spread a carpet beneath their feet Trees bow as they pass, trembling in awe A hush falls over everything, a reverent stillness As the monarch becomes at once separate and inseparable from the life which flourishes here even in the cold Their eyes hold the water of the lakes Their limbs are branches brushing against the sky Tree bark and lichen will grow on their skin, flowers spring from their pores Their veins will take root in the ground The forest will claim their whole being, And they will diminish to nothing as they become everything.
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