Friday, June 17, 2016

Gathering

They're flashing in the field
what would a thrashing yield?
A writhing mass of glowing orbs
the dewey fronds concealed

so small but searing bright
the emptiness of night
voraciously absorbs
their precious light.

2 comments:

Martin Kloess said...

Nice. Thank you for this treat

rch said...

You're welcome 🎁