Within its gates I heard the soundOf winds in cypress caverns caughtOf huddling tress that moaned, and soughtTo whisper what their roots had found.(__ Dream of Fear_)
to be still in the darkness to celebrate the lack of lightto see beauty where the patterns are stern gray austere still lifesthis is the quest for those who slumber beneath the dreaming treewaiting, waiting, waiting for signs of spring
Seasons of a Southern Moon: Poems & Ponderings
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to be still in the darkness to celebrate the lack of lightto see beauty where the patterns are stern gray austere still lifesthis is the quest for those who slumber beneath the dreaming treewaiting, waiting, waiting for signs of spring
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