In Forest Park

Once again I seek solace
alone in the forest above Portland
reading poems of Li Po and Tu Fu,
halfway between dawn and dusk
beneath falling sprays of amber sun.

 Raucous croaks of a crow coughing, twice,
(Wake up! Wake up!)
echo through sentient fir trees
where our dead lay dormant
as vague memories near forgotten
beneath dark, moss draped limbs.

Two golden dragonflies duel overhead -
their immence primaevil shadows fall
upon the grassy meadow below them,
upon the open pages before me.

 Portland mumbles in the distance
like the restless drunk does in his sleep
as the blood stained Empire on the Potomac
plots its next war,
and shadows crash to earth.