It is an old ritual. Moon, blurring gray in your soft breaths. Outside is a quiet world. Larks nesting on black pines & smoke curling into milk-pressed clouds blowing east & you remember the peace. Drag fingers over misted glass to trace t… Read on blog or Reader Eunoia Review Read on blog or Reader eventide perfectsublimemasters March 27 It is an old ritual. Moon, blurring gray in your soft breaths. Outside is a quiet world. Larks nesting on black pines & smoke curling into milk-pressed clouds blowing east & you remember the peace. Drag fingers over misted glass to trace the scene. Let shadows fall like velvet on your skin. Let gem-starred skies […] Read more of this post Comment Like You can also reply to this email to leave a comment.

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