| When a wind done whistling, and leaves rest in meditative breath, I squeeze into path on tip-toe of curiosity to sniff the essence of fall... to taste promises subtle energies, curled in mocking grin last sunset screen... How easy to slip from the end of my dreams - cozy, filled with soft enzymes of intent, and get lost in tides of whimsical glimpse, paradox of trust... | |||
Having a sneak peek
ReplyDeleteSurely isn't bleak
A whimsical dream
It can feel over autumns gleam