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Confessions of the Thunder
In rags of the candles and rags of the hills—
Perceived by shadows of thunder only
Wraiths delight—in the wounds.
When the snow is reborn as rain,
And the lakes are all of frost—
In my tears there is a fever that freezes
I see it in a veiled belle jar
With a voice bewinged
In twilight of a garden bare—
Will our shades be linked there
With the birds awaiting song—
The crystal spirit in twain
The crystal spirit in twain?
© 2018 Marten Hoyle
Perceived by shadows of thunder only
Wraiths delight—in the wounds.
When the snow is reborn as rain,
And the lakes are all of frost—
In my tears there is a fever that freezes
I see it in a veiled belle jar
With a voice bewinged
In twilight of a garden bare—
Will our shades be linked there
With the birds awaiting song—
The crystal spirit in twain
The crystal spirit in twain?
© 2018 Marten Hoyle
Published 14th Feb 2018
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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