Description
‘The air chilled at sunset,
the ground crisped;
a hoar frost insidiously stole
over growing grass and unfolding bud
Superannuated wood-giants
clad in bright shrouds of ivy
shook its leaves;
a scattering of leaves
fell to the ground
There they settled
with perfect composure
to await dissolution
Shadows had melted their masses
into one huge obscurity
Among the folded wings of the hills;
no sounds save the cry of a bird
seeking some lonelier tree
Darkness covered
the wrinkled skin of the turf
enveloping the solitary thorn tree
and the empty nest at its foot
The earth was a waste of shadow;
withered,
brittle,
false’
VaL Smit ©
