ShadowVerse's blog: "My ShadowVerse"

Once
one poinsettia day,
a soul
follows the soft
thrumming beat
of a raven's wing
as it flies through
the shadows
of the last
days.
Soft chill falls
a winter blanket
upon a shimmering
path,
on which danced
ruminations
of one unopened gift,
delivered
on the light
of azure cherries.