Impoverished as the winter woods of the Nowhere Shire appear, core-level work is underway. Another full-drawn moon releases into the dark mark of the new; her ghostly nightlight crafting antlered shadows over snow-dusted earth, while deer scrap the frosty ground for the elixir of winter marrow. Morning comes; birds gather for a share at hoof-torn […]
In our August days, the afternoon Cicada buzz––the sound of southern heat––fades into twilight enchantments of the Katydid rattle. Rattles rattling through late summer nights cooling, then break into the wake of the silence––the dew-heavy webs strewn across meadow’s morning explain everything. You ought to see the spiraling arrow scatter these otherworldly pearls of dawn.
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