Post by anirbas on Sept 12, 2006 20:32:50 GMT -6
Liquid silver vestures the leaf barren
crowns of elm, oak, mesquite, cottonwood and willow,
in a copiously cut, drifting gossamer cape;
mantles the rolling fields of matte and matted beige;
shrouds houses and barns of warm cherry red;
subdues headlights, from a glare to a glimmer;
sets streets asparkle, with a glassine shimmer.
Even the morning birdsong is nonexistent.
The winged choir's voices muted as requited love.
In the fog, silence prevades...It rocks.
It rolls. It tendrils into the eardrums,
leaves the ear, feeling stuffed with cotton.
Releases the imagination
with it's ephemeral lubricity.
One almost expects to blink the eyes...
And open them to the sight of a battle
blackened and redded knight, galloping
across the the winter flattened pasture,
on a pearl grey Percheron charger.
In search of the dragon whose breath,
it's veritable exhalations, are responsible
for this spell binding weather phenomenon...
~Sabrina.
crowns of elm, oak, mesquite, cottonwood and willow,
in a copiously cut, drifting gossamer cape;
mantles the rolling fields of matte and matted beige;
shrouds houses and barns of warm cherry red;
subdues headlights, from a glare to a glimmer;
sets streets asparkle, with a glassine shimmer.
Even the morning birdsong is nonexistent.
The winged choir's voices muted as requited love.
In the fog, silence prevades...It rocks.
It rolls. It tendrils into the eardrums,
leaves the ear, feeling stuffed with cotton.
Releases the imagination
with it's ephemeral lubricity.
One almost expects to blink the eyes...
And open them to the sight of a battle
blackened and redded knight, galloping
across the the winter flattened pasture,
on a pearl grey Percheron charger.
In search of the dragon whose breath,
it's veritable exhalations, are responsible
for this spell binding weather phenomenon...
~Sabrina.
