Bright green faces

14 12 2012

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Birches bright green faces beckon,
a tap, tap on the window,
as the hunting hornet seeks a nights refuge.

Sunlight on silver white skin reflects the days repeat.
Wraith like brothers on gossamer wings seek solace in a nights warmth.
I breath softly as Sol heads north to set this solstice night and her skin shows through her bright green face.

In the trees, the short night begins beneath her sunlit canopy.
The forest cools below as the leaves drink in sun from above.
Her face flows this night, weaving in the timeless wind as it always has.

Shadows creep across her silver skin, etching embraces, fulfilling their vows.
Beauty lies deep within the traces of her forest source,
Waiting the cool touch of the short, sweet, night.

Dragonflies weave and dance through their flight, as one they beat with the rhythm of their sight.
Beauty is the art of their one duplicitous flight.
They are one with their source.

Wind whispers, as it quiets in the long hours of the dusk.
It’s soul a moan or rush, where before there was naught.
I listen as it comes and goes, leaving no trace on the face of the forest.

Blessed by the source of all that I am,
I take part in the beauty that it is.
And remain thankful.

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