Thursday, December 8, 2011

Of Fogs and Bogs...

A fog shrouded afternoon
as the raven glides from out the mist
in the air you can feel as the breeze blows past;
particles of water as fine as dust
floating among the currents,
dancing on the air,
a sparkling, diaphanous veil clinging,
just barely,
to your clothes and your hair
while the grass soaks you feet
practically in the second they meet,
man made of water
and the soil smelling of peat...
Like in bogs of long ago
where still reside thieves and sacrifices
thrown to the primordial ooze
sinking back into the crevasses of Time
returning the clay into the clay
as the Milennia slip away...
            08-22-10

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