Hark! The rhythm

Hark! The rhythm. The pellet drum rattles. The dance begins. The creation, the annihilation, the fleeing in-betweens, and beyond these appar...

Sunday, January 19, 2020

Winter woods

Lonesome tree, withering in winters,
almost dead,
beneath that misty grey shroud,
surviving with summer in its heart
and sighing with hope in its roots.
Spring breathes life in it, anew.



5 comments:

Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.