Dark walls of water
and sea-foam lace
reach up for a moon
pinned impossibly high,
while the woods settle in
to the bed of the earth
with a shrug and a yawn and a sigh.
Then you lean into me
as I reach out for you
and we bid all the specters good bye,
at the edge of a world
where the nightmares are curled
and the stars fall away from the sky.
Over in the Imaginary Garden Hedgewitch asked us to write a piece in keeping with the Tonalist painting movement, "with 'no under drawing,' by tkaing an idea, a place, a persn, an event or a mood and quickly fleshing out a portrait of it in a blur of words. Use language to mass light and dark verbal'tones' and build up our poem in dashes of description and image. The end result should be something immediate but 'misty.' Or we could use a painting from this school to inspire our writing. I'm not sure I achieved that first bit, so the painting is one from the Tonalist School.