Carpe Noctem
Published in
Mar 27, 2024
The woods at night are beautiful.
And the moutains before the moon; God’s shadows!
And the moon; ethereal in doom!
Wintry flora at brumous dim swebs into flowers-to-be.
And when the color faints,
Cimmeria!
Bona fide cinema!
And when the landbreeze crawls up to the titan crests along smokefall traces, trees bow in genteel curtsy, altogether, as noble sculptures in a museum.
The valleys at night are bemisted.
The summits beclouded.
The branches wet — by earth’s cold sweat. By sap. By magma.
The woods at night are God’s canvas!
God’s abnormality!
God’s violence!
