Light and Moon
Nov 4 · 1 min read
a bristle off the evergreens north
a calm wind, a desolate storm ahead
gray clouds low, brushing the seemingly
stars above, dropped high
the sky dropped, the moon disappeared
the wind picked up, scraping the trees
a faint, but distinct smell of firewood
in the distance, yet so strong the eyes
could taste it
a storm, full of fever and dispair crowded

