The prologue

There’s something in the air, A cinnamon glow, An oaken grove, Whispering, rustling. Can it be, Tales of a season’s past, A talisman found in campfire ash? They tell of long lost rituals fading as the Earth freezes. Sssh… They lull soft and smooth, As the breeze cools, knowing it must settle soon.   -Annalise … More The prologue

Golden Hour

Honey trickles through the oak blinds Rolling mellifluously, dripping on the cotton and leather, Dusting the glass table with golden pollen And the daffodils with syrupy sun Oh, how it rolls the lake in a bourbon rug As earthly orbs sip drunkenly before the long slumber.

Untitled, 2019

As I lay here breathing, heavy to my ears I hear, the sirens of crickets in the heavy cotton night. Musty cloth, shaken The dust is stirred. To the beat of my cage, I wonder what the window taints And what I will find behind the blinds, Could it be she? Alas, she’s invisible when … More Untitled, 2019

Midnight mother

Your glistening, glinting, maternal face Looks over a midnight, ghost town Full and bright, Porous and light Dusting the ground in silvery powder, Though you may be too far to see, Your reflection on the pond’s crystal dermis, Or your illumination amongst the heavenly spheres, Each night, in awe, each mortal soul stares up at … More Midnight mother