Saffron Moon


At the fold of day

a veil shrouds the hills

as rising fog drifts

over tapering fields.

 

Rain falls softly

dimpling the river.

Sombre waters swagger

beneath a narrow bridge.

 

Rambling oak trees line

steep grassy banks.

Ferns furl

long slender fingers

into tight fists,

recoiling

into moldy stone.

Moss carpets the woodland,

the earthy air damp

as dusk slinks in.

 

A murder of crows

sweep the sky

smothering the light.

Squabbling,

they roost

on tall tree tops.

 

Settling,

a rustling murmur

whispers softly, sweetly.

They sleep

under a saffron moon

 

stilled

by a blackening night.

Image

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