Through the sharpened
lens of winter
a hard white moon
beats clean
down through
narrow canyons
ricochets
high between
crystalline
hardened steel
and glass walls
gaining velocity
then strikes
the deep
thrumming gong
of undiminished
original
bed rock
sounding
deep earth bound
sounding chambers
far below the range
of any hearing
but feeling.
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5 comments:
You write beautifully with a keen eye. I enjoy your writing immensely.
Thank you, 'Dreamer. I have the feeling from your blog that we share geography in common...
We're a few time zones apart (if you are in Ottawa.)
I suppose this plane of virtual reality is a bit convoluted. In my dreams, Day Dreamer, I still run through the foothills...
Our planes are separated only by latitudes, longitudes, seconds and minutes, mountains and foothills.
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