The dusk and the feathers
the fog and the coos,
they called the night
in words of taboo.

Mist spoke in riddles
and the Trees stood watch
as the ravens stole time,
the moon as their clock.

Wolves howl sharply
telling their tails
of the Sun's retreat
down dusky trails.

All hail darkness,
the forest, this time,
and splash in these
murky waters of pine.

The grass and the dew
the deer and the leaves,
create a world of wonder
to behold and believe.

Night near empty,
dare now cry
not rain but stars,
that drown the sky.

11/22/2011

Posted on 11/23/2011
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