The surface fringe

River and sky at the fringesSpinning on two feet, Slow soon
comes direction, Chance upon
sweet earth, The melody of
dreams drift, Without sun
born horizons, Story tellers
live in emotion, Between shallow-

waters distant, Starlight clouds
awaken branches, Caught within
breezes tempered, Above liquid
red hot earth, Like new days
air exposed, Tense heat above
waters never still, Carries closer-

the forest flames, Their fire lifting
from once old, Rising fresh new
colours about Terra, Soft or hard
maybe the intangible, Of blues, the greens,
the reds, blacks, yellows, Shades and tints
to living worlds, Places drifting with the seasons-

long or short in minds, Where to take us
along the lines different, As each new story
trades a start nor finish, The visual travelling
somewhere in between, Like a snare waiting
in motion on sand drifts, As the mind wanders,
above the lucid textures, While time thought-

captures fast turning, Faces in a mist
lull on a rivers slid, When the tide’s quick
brief transit creeps, Strange follows like
vipers between bamboo, To thrust above
vibrant surfaces clear, Looking down amongst
trees and grasses tall, Listening to the walking-

storylines call of names, As they dwell with hearts
of ancients, old, and young, Beneath the fringe of
clouds so heavy hold, Let go drops of water
cold as fresh ice, At each moment
collide the words, A kin to dust
the scents fill old air,-

To greet the surface fringe one story goes…

Write away...

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