where the spirits Sewn the sky

Where the canyons revive the autumn light; and the waterfalls bathe the butterflies at laughing play; the sweeping moon breathes life into the aspen trees; the sweet grasses softly sing to the twittering birds sweetly singing their first morning chords; the branches shake hands with the forgings of the wind makers; the river rocks and stones give a soft morning groan under the weight of the valley throne; the tree tips reach for comfort in the bouncing clouds; a hovering mist twists and twirls with spirits of pearl; the twirling mist entwines with blazing orange violet sun rays - the spirits and animals gently dance off a little grogginess from a hard nights slumber.
Rainbows shake distant rainclouds ‘till the skies delightfully sing to tap-dancing deities … - they twirl and leap through multiversal hula-hoops … they celebrate the ways of a new dawn awake; whisps of clouds whistle with the howls of wolf packs waiting to prowl; the fading twilight softly screams a bass-baritone good night to the heavens quizzical eyes



12/27-31/22

~ Quieter the Wilder Laine