There must be respite in the ebon quake
lids like nightling moths,
fluttered above the littered fields
barren but for the ebb and tide of moonlight
thick as milk.
Feeble grip shakes loose
tossed down below a carbon root
took hold,
a heart in repose
as it would to the sounds
of thunder.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 12:06 AM UTC
There must be respite in the ebon quake
lids like nightling moths,
fluttered above the littered fields
barren but for the ebb and tide of moonlight
thick as milk.
Feeble grip shakes loose
tossed down below a carbon root
took hold,
a heart in repose
as it would to the sounds
of thunder.
try not to panic
Copyright ©2010-2014 Sean Winslow All Rights Reserved
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