Spirit Grove

By Martin Breul

Silence over the pool
heralds the summoning.
Out of black liquid reaches
a congregation of deep blue shoots
digging into the earth from below
to take root with firm grip and
push through. Into the nocturnal
hollow grows the spirit grove.
Dusk only broken by the silver
shimmer of snow
still reflecting a moon
that has long abandoned the scene.

Martin Breul currently lives and writes in Montréal. He likes coffee, tea, books. His works of poetry and flash fiction have appeared in print and online in Wet Grain, The Wild Word, Acta Victoriana, Variety Pack, and others. In 2021 he won the Mona Elaine Adilman Prize for his eco-poetry and in 2022 he was nominated for Best of the Net. You can follow him on Twitter @BreulMartin