crow calling at trees
a name of her buried
of cairn and cattails
rushes in the breeze
windswept waters
wrinkle at their song
so, too, the waving of
hellebore between
shadow and sun
cairn & cattails
share:
crow calling at trees
a name of her buried
of cairn and cattails
rushes in the breeze
windswept waters
wrinkle at their song
so, too, the waving of
hellebore between
shadow and sun
share:
3 responses to “cairn & cattails”
Having been a child that put buttercups beneath my chin to see if reflected there, I love that last line. It’s clever like the nod to how crows bury their food is. Beautiful, Michael. Love it!
Thank you very much, Raven. Ahh yes… the days of buttercups and dandelions. I recall those, although it sometimes seems like a dream.
It does seem like a dream. A time of whimsy. You are welcome, Michael. Thank you for making me smile.