Oh that, that morn, that quiet fore storm,
And the slugabeds fast asleep.
But a hero stood, at the edge of a wood,
Reflecting on the murky keep.
The unlocking
Grounds still frozen
Creeks swollen full
Opening Season
I’m feeling pulled
Winter’s consciousness
Snow’s pretty weight,
Can pull at consciousness.
As sylphs await,
The end of somnolence.
Nature’s Chimes
Nature’s wind chimes are superior!
It ruins the clinking sound of glass.
Heard on those days that the cold comes,
Or when the bitter comes to pass.
There’s a range to hear it composed,
You might sense it out on edge.
Moved by those depths that disclosed,
The thousand three hundred feet alleged.
And in all that obscure coldness,
That is driven by mistrusts,
Is a hymn of fragments singing,
“The shards of water and the gusts”
Continue reading Nature’s ChimesA Spell for the Distiller
Let percolate, sift and refine…
A soul’s growth comes from what snares its mind.
Those hearts they ache or else they envy,
The happy few or Those miserable many.
The Magic of Sibley
When stared at behemoth most your life,
And trudged on the trails in your turn.
In summer you’d freeze if stood on the heights.
And in winter, just reflection might burn.
Before my Destruction
Patiently the Devil stood on the threshold.
Restling I heard the Brute knock at nightfall.
I know better, of course I knew better.
Dragging my feet as I moved down the hall.
Earning the shock as I reached the doorway.
Costs of devising the dead
Midcourse the mid-day the sky went midnight,
With force a display, loud cracks it ignites.
Strange shapes, on the rise, that are splashed by the light.
The dawning dismay when out come the wights.
A telling of the Hymn of August
Once every year there is an eventide,
As we tiptoe or sprint towards decline.
The whilom of wonder begins to wane,
When Notos decides to retire the reign.
The dip.
Willed and weaved a garden so wild,
Milled and mislead the ardent child.
Lanes now murky but started so mild.
The air is earthy prompting fiends to smile.