Life With Horace

poetry & essays

shadow woods

Leave a comment

frost painting echo trees
on woods facing windows
in the coldest
days and nights
of the dark months
the panes must be calling
siren like, their remnant
grains of earth
almost alive once more,
or is it that trees hear
the windows sigh
and send their shadow shapes
to be as one?

Author: Life With Horace

poetry & essays

Leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s