Kikuyu_Black_Paws Posted June 10, 2007 Report Posted June 10, 2007 What dawn thunder whispers, While the Wild evening Moon and Owl cry? A late winter birch will freeze, And black morning Wanders. Early then will fight lulling sleep away. What calls are deciphered among the snow, What do footprints tell? What sights do you see deep at night, Where trees and footfalls fell? Morning skies are rosy doves’ feathers, Fluffed up to keep the cold away. Far across the trees a lonely loon weeps, Chilling the marrow of even the ghosts, A caribou moans, a tree cracks, Silence. What stories can the wind tell? What secrets carry fire? What wind can stories talk about? What blaze is a mystery dire? The Fey are asleep, their hair iced like tree fingers, Their eyes are closed, they do not move, From their perches in the tree forks. Quietly, perchance you will see one move, blink, Perchance you will not. Wait for spring and the awakening Of the world.
Guest Phoenix Posted July 11, 2007 Report Posted July 11, 2007 i really liked this it bought some very strange, very strong images to mind. very evocative thanks
hig4s Posted July 17, 2007 Report Posted July 17, 2007 Interesting post for the middle of summer. Stirs the memories of long winter nights in the North land, from for the lights of any city, brrr. Cold yet beautiful, still but alive, the promise of natures splender just waiting to emerge.. I liked it.
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