We who sought solace in the endless winter night...,

in the benevolence of the dark and cold

Lying on the haystack

we gazed at the fluttering of the night wing...

Where has the whiff of the old owl gone?


We have lived the beauty of the freezing nights;

spreading our wings down the vast valley showered with love,

The stork trumpets on the branch of the fig tree

We have tasted it all, we, who are the silent conjuring of life...

Submitted: February 24, 2018

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Interesting poem. Great job!

Sat, February 24th, 2018 11:19am

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Poem / Fantasy