I
Steady hands till soil
And caress the gentle seed
Within the garden
II
Soft rain nourishes
The sapling which will become
A mighty oak tree
III
Consuming all in
Its path, fire devours until
Only ash remains.
IV
Summer winds give wings
To quiet leaves and flowers
Which dance in the air
About the Creator
Ash Taylor
Lover of fantasy and all things whimsical. Currently studying Writing and Publishing at UNE in Armidale, Australia. Living on Anaiwan land.
he/him
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More stories from Ash Taylor and writers in Poets and other communities.
Depth
Still waters run deep Reflecting the lonely sky See how blue his eyes
By Ash Taylorabout a year ago in Poets
Gossamer
"Murray! Wake up!" He loved that period between waking and dreaming. To him, it was like entering another dimension; more of a dreamscape than dreaming itself. There was an otherness to it that he wanted to grasp and yet deeply respected the fact that it could never be his totally. This is what gossamer was; flighty and light, a wisp of smokiness, an idea suggested but not fully revealed, a slit in cloth, a copse in the wood.
By Rachel Deeming6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Another excellent piece!