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Mar 2016
Silver sheen and gossamer glow,
christen the sky vibrance.
Lend neither to fear nor shadow,
Guide all wanderers without diffidence

Crisp and sweet, night air falls.
Without A cloud chill sets in.
The stars begin their siren calls,
Street lamps answer in chagrin.

The earth did stir and call to wake!
In darkness all birth did take place.
In there of we find the tools to make,
Solitude: Our sacred space.

Pine’s grace the Sky,
holding hands with Night.
Listening to passers by,
Boughs Swaying in delight

A person makes their way home
By way of walk.
With talk of tomes,
hemlock and bedrock.

Flintlock, eyes.
Eloquence with brevity,
Causing sighs.
Thank you, Natalie
Autumn Briarhart
Written by
Autumn Briarhart  Seattle
(Seattle)   
525
 
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