And the almost night sky…. dusk…. apprehensive and pink, dusted spindrift clouds for miles and miles….

And a proud dragon, back scaled in gold, lay his tale across the horizon…. stately and assured….. guarding…. keeping watch…. a sentinel for moon…..

And black….

An army of shape-shifting skulls and cotton pressed fossils crept over the night… breathing silence and cold…. ¬†breaking curtain over stars…. cracked open geodes…. ancient sparkle ancient glisten…. proud millennial saints….. sentinels for the moon

And then quiet….. black as deep as the heaving ocean… inverse midnight ocean into gas…. breaths through trees, the breeze…. mist on the front… figure eight wind as winter…… as november….. makes it’s approach and descends…….. lays claim to the earth…… a sentinel for december…..

Advertisements