deep noon: a bulbul appears just to query my soul
Tag: fiction
spring after dawn: the tea cup smoulders with the rage of the coming summer
old woodland: the mist changes the ambience but the danger remains the same
brief flashes of motion: dragonflies deliver death from above
between heaven and earth: bodies wade through the summer shallows
deep within the forest where the quiet stream has had centuries to shape the creek
pulped wood scattered as apology to the limbless tree
even on calm days the sea carries a slow continual motion of current that grazes at and worships limbs without bias
pray tell: would you still fear the deep gods if you had been shaped by wind and salt
disturbed: the peace of clouds long gone and replaced by the jagged razor of a new dawn
