Dirt fingers, like seeds - in a sense, we're playing God - poking holes in Earth
for Algot
A place to gather words before they get lost.
Dirt fingers, like seeds - in a sense, we're playing God - poking holes in Earth
for Algot
Annoying whispers of agendas and secrets; soft mosquito song
Even crows Keep quiet
— Wendy T. via “New Moon Dark Night” https://wentalearn.blogspot.com/2024/06/new-moon-dark-night.html
Dreaming of descent, black wings flapping at midnight, the moon as spotlight on branch, trees as creatures of slumber
Night descends slowly, stretching arms and taking a long day to arrive
In tidal waters, currents end where we begin: take the plunge, then swim
Spin – weather vane – spin
You are more than architectural ornament
You are elevated harbinger of the storm to come
Spin – weather vane – spin
Wander in, among the grove of trees; it's silence that envelopes you
White ink, on purple, petals of the Wild Iris contain mysteries
Pathways, blinking light as darkness descends, follow swarms of fireflies
Blue sky – scattered light; the sun drenches morning in beautiful embrace
for Algot