Silver lace spun cross the sky
Pierced by Luna's blazing eye...
The biggest nemesis of spring
is not winter that imbues her...
nudging mum for a
crafty suckle, her eldest...
now it savours
wetness, like dew...
You hear her breathe but cannot see her mouth
her lips can whistle tunes through boughs of...
I have seen lands ravaged by conflict
I have been frozen and I have been cooked...
Fallen leaves frozen
crunch beneath my walking boots...
Bush footed butterfly pleased
for spectral paradise, a bright glitters...
Trees are shedding
lifeless leaves...
Absence is the initial feeling, as I slowly turn...
left; where you once sat. The wind echoes...
The cannibalism was back.
You were eating yourself...
Trees are like windchimes
responding to the windsong...