Haggard eyes of sand – look!
At blackened, brittle trees shook
With gusts of groaning, ravaged fury,
Bursting with the leaves they took.
Like golden stars, they spin and swirl,
Glide on violent gale hurl!
Through grey force, the birds drown
And slide on through maelstrom curl.
The wind chases onward forth
From empty, endless miles North.
Ivy, creep! Cling to ruin,
Strangle dead a long lost worth.
Warmth forgotten, time is still,
Sun shine weak onto the hill.
Dim as a silver coin in the sky,
Yearning for sleep debt to fulfill.
– 2011
P.S.Clinen 