Tag: Elancharan

kindness repeated over generations make the best kind of folklore

a softness the calendar cannot explain: the first breeze of september

the old pond guards a secret spot just for dragonflies to spit their fire

first contact: the moon shies away from the teeth of tide

autumn: a hint of pale mornings on lips

the dark before: shadows graze closest to dawn

the house grows soft with yearning long after warm bodies have left

petals released from a bridge carries summer downstream

we thank the shadows for nights past for beginning the day

the world waits while the waterhen crosses the quiet old pond