Up over houses, And between soft green leaves, Is a gentle blue haze, That gives new meaning, To a glorious breath, seized deeply, And from a silent window, For although the clouds have gone, And the sun has glanced back, I find - thankfully - There's still rain.
In the place of those who take leave, Better things can be found, Such as when the rain comes; Summer bark may turn black, Yet alongside it, Colours begin to pop.
As I make my song, I find it answered from below, And in peculiar ways I'd like to know, So down through the green and black, I fly, Twixt the shaded realms of time, Where ages have manifest, As strands and fur, Amidst my sweet pine friends, Until at the source I arrive, To find… Continue reading The Birds Must Pity Us
As I wait in my room, The open window courts me, With scents of the world beyond, But above all, one must haunt the most, For as the sun sets upon me, desperate and besotted, An effluvium of smoke, somehow blue, Precedes fading dreams, As still I remain, Unmoved.
On the horizon, Comes a dream of a future, That may wash away the present, where, No matter how bright the day, I remain adamant for the dark; That could softly approach, Or around me manifest, With familiar cold hands, To smother the worries, Of a moment that was once the future, Upon the last… Continue reading Downpour