The moon late at night peeks through the trees,
The road silent leading to the shore,
The edge of the world
As gathering clouds
Blown by the winds,
Among swaying branches and rustling leaves.
Whispers all around, then the pitter-patter on the dome-
Nature's might and roaring spelling doom,
Collective phantasms blowing in the gales
Gritty splinter grinding with a groan
The screech of the harpy
Flights of fancy that take sail
In the warmth of a soft cocoon.
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| X | InLeo | NFT Showroom |