Sometimes we spiraland grope toward the light likea hole in the woods.
Rocks carry secretsas they tumble from mountains,yet they never tell.
Time hangs on the wallrusting the minds of splinteredbarns of yesterday.
Light and shadow shiftto the dance of the riveras nature looks on.
From the depths of murkythe river’s rainbow trout stillsee the light of day.
Fungus on the treeis nature’s rainbow of loveto woodland fairies.
The end of the lineor is it the beginningof a peace to come?
come visit me at my other blog.
The Water Witch’s Daughter
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