Sep 25
Witchblood
Legacy of the Witchblood Add comments
A little poem I found scrawled in the convolutions of my brain.
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Leaves by frahnkee
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Witchblood
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Does she love the half light,
the oblique mirror,
the sheen?
Are her fingers,
thrown against the white sky,
rune-like?
Is she always listening for
bells and
sighs,
rustling footsteps
on the leaves?
Does autumn move her,
fire and gloom,
a winter white lover
holding secrets
under the black soil?
*
Within the hollow tree
she stands.
Knowledge trickling
sap-like
down the vision
is not apart
from nature
but is in all things
that carpet
the earth.
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