What’s hidden behind
The winds
silent kiss

Lies a
Sacred jewel

A perfect stranger
Swaying in the
Romance of the
Nights silky mist

A gray wet plume
rising

from the bottom of  black
cast iron

blowing off steam

releasing pent up
and strong emotions

and yet
we are still called human

as we continue to be such
marvelous machines

Whit Howland © 2020

candles light up her room
it smells like herbs
and flowers

fall is her favorite season
she enjoys the rain
while dancing trough the woods
barefooted

she's one with nature and the sun
but in love with the moon