a shorter bridge to heartache

at the bottom of a stagnant lake
lived a dead forest
black trunks standing 
knuckle deep in muck
branches simply armature 
for a fluttering array 
of gray scarves 
blowing in the watery wind
molds and aquatic plant life 
growing quieter in near darkness
the forest laid down years ago
gave up the sun and the breezes
the same arguments from the same birds
slid back toward the sandy edge 
then gradually leaned over
one after another they followed
under the forgiving cover 
of progressively longer nights
a very slow migration
the stars really weren't watching
eventual full immersion
nothing left uncovered
but the land around the lake
the gray water always present
became all any tree could remember
oxygenating the murk for a while
the contradictions grew 
in place of leaves
instead of hopeful young twigs
stanchions indicating nothing
huddled together under the surface
standing sunken in an air more dense
a different kind of time passing
light arriving but
only in soft whispers