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Loam
An eclipse of moths encircles me
Wings illuminated by the moon
As I stand in the forest debris
I draw the sacred rune
Thrumming; the sound of every wing
Flying past my tickled ears
As I stand in this Fairy Ring
The wind steals my fears
Pine needles stab the bottom of my feet; injecting me with the power of earth
Soft vines slither down onto my flesh; Injecting my mind and soul with mirth
I step into the darkness, the night
Moths following my very path
As I walk in the purest delight
A silent, pacifistic warpath
My laughter echoes off tall wise trees
The sound is foreign, and supreme
As I stop and stand still; at ease
My smiling eyes now glow and gleam
The Tall Wise Trees
yes! so much celebration in this write. Thanks - shear joy in and as nature.
~S~