It was a beacon of all things that flame from long ago. It ruled the night and rivaled the moon, the stars paid it homage. Continue reading “The long ago flame.”
It looks nothing as it did, where I had grown from birth.
Where once clear skies of memory shone through times of good and bad,
Now lay unfamiliar sights and shapes where decay holds and consumes. Continue reading “That place.”
There is lust in the eyes of the seasons as each take their turn. The rolling fields of green to turn to purest white in time, and then in turn to baron brown to sprout in green again. Continue reading “A breeze.”
Under stars of frozen light, careless to dark beneath them. Subject to winds which chill the bone and keep any warmth at bay. One huddles with who and what they have to escape the bite of ice. Continue reading “The blaze.”
The crashing hit of axe on wood sounds as I split them this way and that. A sound which fills me with such joy to know what comes. Placing wood on wood to set it where I will, and down comes the crash to split and shatter again. Continue reading “Splitting logs.”