The darkness folds in outside here
not to lighten
before nine in the morning
slowly turning to light again
nights are pitch black
beautiful onyx nights
that carry on their cupola
stars
just as the ceilings
in ancient Egyptian graves
silence fills the void
almost an uncanny silence
that makes one stop up
to listen
in the woods
the moss has grown so thick
and green
it almost resembles snow
passing through the many trunks of trees
we marvel at its coat
some beautiful rounded stones
making imaginary secret chests
a tiny fir growing on their velvet tops
one stone is the shape
of a pointed kind of pyramid
with moss at its summit
looking like a miniature mountain
with clouds on top
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 2:53 PM UTC
The darkness folds in outside here
not to lighten
before nine in the morning
slowly turning to light again
nights are pitch black
beautiful onyx nights
that carry on their cupola
stars
just as the ceilings
in ancient Egyptian graves
silence fills the void
almost an uncanny silence
that makes one stop up
to listen
in the woods
the moss has grown so thick
and green
it almost resembles snow
passing through the many trunks of trees
we marvel at its coat
some beautiful rounded stones
making imaginary secret chests
a tiny fir growing on their velvet tops
one stone is the shape
of a pointed kind of pyramid
with moss at its summit
looking like a miniature mountain
with clouds on top
Today, Christmas Day, we walked here, when most Britons were roasting their turkey, we celebrated yesterday evening in Norway. langvann-longlake.
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