The Sound of Ink

  Whispering leaf bones of pines emerald my window as the last gasp of winter foams the horizon.   My heart lifts a psalm of spring in goosebumps along my arms.   The constancy of season’s change breaks the glue of grief I’ve been mired in.   For a few chords of hallelujahs I am the wings I begged God to send me. ©Susie Clevenger 2021 The Sunday Muse #149

first winter blown kiss delicate frosting of love echoes through snowflakes ©Susie Clevenger 2020 Carpe Diem #1797 New Beginnings ~ First Snow

In the palm of eyes and the ear of skin days darken before they even begin. The sky bleeds crows in drops of black ink, leaves rise on the fall, wither and shrink. Neither here nor there mist laces bare limbs with droplets of dew, whispers, and whims. In the season of crumble the hours grow short, shadows grow longer, and wicked holds court. Beware of what you hear, be careful where you go. Witch and winter plot in sable and drifting snow. ©Susie Clevenger 2019 Poets United ~ Midweek Motif