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Jesse stillwater Dec 2018
In a distance an emptiness echoes,
another lonesome dove's sigh
is carried away with the leaves

silence annulled by tempest gusts
as late autumn winds
belatedly lay bare the trees;

the sad song in the wind
repined for golden days
bowing sun ripened amber fields
dancing with the moment's sway

now windswept wild feathers  
chase after the waning sunlight
bucking prevailing headwinds
just beneath heaven's glow

sail away! — sail away!
way up on high!
O' birds of a feather
sail away!

begone — bygones — begone
homeward bound
from north and south
on  an algid heavenward flight

Jesse Stillwater ... winter solstice ... 2018
traces of being Nov 2016
Looking out across the many shades of dark on dark
The rolling ashen gray fog opens a window to the dawn
and I feel a loneliness,  arising like the winter sun
             … in the morning

The trees have bared their golden surrender
Breaking silence through the windswept boughs
below,  gathered dewdrops blossom on the last winter rose
             … a chilling epilogue

Beyond the waning hydrangea sundried sepia tones
Latent conflicts of the head and heart stir the hush of memories
imposing heart whispers,  arising like sunlight shadows cast
             … in the morning

There’s no one listening to the wind roar the incoming wintertide
An ascending sadness paints many hues that contrast dark and light
as the Pink Moon,  steals away over lonely mountain headed south
             … in the morning

                                         every picture tells a story ― ☾ wild is the wind
November 2016

"I saw it written and I saw it say
the Pink Moon is on its way
and none of you stand so tall
the Pink Moon gonna get you all"

Pink Moon ― Nick Drake

— The End —