Fields of sparrows end in a twilight patch,
Fallen tree's ice and a curved whisper on the fringe of night.
The chilled heart, in its sadness becomes whole once more;
The ice can freeze up the cracks in the heart.
why do I?
a bell sounds in
The space in that time
was beyond any rhyme
The trees were too bright;
the crystals seemed in flight.
The fallen tree was a natural plea.
More.
