A Little Writing for the Morning Before We Begin

Things that float and flicker
Things that sink and stand
Quietude that lives at the foot of the mountain
Solitude that profits from an out of breath wind
Steady rivers, steady trees, steady
Fingers that weave countless robes
For us to wrap our dead in
Frost and flame, forest and sea
Backward is sometimes the way forward
Circles do not capture us
They reap our walls, link our hands, set us free
And the moon rules the tides.

larkhorn3-2

Lovely image provided by Canva – Thank you.

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