A fusillade of arrows pierced
The preternatural fog
Falling to the lush grass
Harmless, all around them
The preternatural fog
Falling to the lush grass
Harmless, all around them
Still…
“Travelling South East Asia,” he said
“You’ll wake up every morning
And have no idea
What the day will bring.”
Where the sounds of water
Lapping at your canoe
The trill of a loon
And a child’s laughter
Splashing in the lake
Become a presence