in the still
where once the spirits played ~
softer my becoming
a bed beneath
the aging evergreens
memories
of mornings there
whispered into verse
a line or so
threatened not by word
light undone as yearning spread
beyond the reach
of time
somewhere I am told
they speak of mine
. . .
diffused like sunsets
expectant with every morn
the first chirps of fledglings
a tornado born
🙂
“in the still
where once the spirits played”……, What a magical opening, Bobbie !!!!!!!
C’est Magnifique ! …………………………………..xo