summer the caterpillar is returned to the garden with a small wish
Tag: fantasy
quiet is the fantasy: existence smothered between thunder clouds
nobody needs to hurry: the body grows soft with weeds
the summer pond turns pale whenever dawn arrives through the mist
a wildflower on the table is as good as inviting the meadow into your home
nothing more than your kind attention for the gentlest of magic
the rain at last: a different kind of song
death’s old scythe catches the morning light
through the evening mist slower than your slowest thought
old garden path smells sweeter when walked at twilight
