Cold gloaming: the moon,
A stark, silvery eyelash,
Flicked into the sky.
Soaking up dusk’s ink,
The trees’ bare branches stiffen
Into crisp, black lace.
December 29, 2008
December 29, 2008
Cold gloaming: the moon,
A stark, silvery eyelash,
Flicked into the sky.
Soaking up dusk’s ink,
The trees’ bare branches stiffen
Into crisp, black lace.
December 30, 2008 at 4:41 am
I like them! I love the eyelash and the crisp, black lace.
December 30, 2008 at 11:46 am
That’s very decent of you, my dear—thank you!
B(ows) A(ppreciatively)
January 8, 2009 at 8:38 pm
Sounds beautiful. I want to live in a place where tree branches get bare and crisp sometimes.
January 9, 2009 at 12:30 pm
Well, Agellius, you can always come and visit us!
Bª
January 9, 2009 at 8:08 pm
Many thanks! I would love to see Scotland. Here’s hoping that dream may come true some day.