~beyond Equinox~

Golden tresses shorn lay beneath the feet of summers passing, sun shifts slowly towards warmth of another horizon, promising to return, and we are wrapped for winters blues beneath compressing sky, as it drains away all colours. We were tired as we lay beneath the feet of summers passing, too many attempts to fly left our breath promising to return. How lethargic morning seems as it lingers longer in slumber beneath compressing sky, with no thought to lights insistence that night should be on its way. Too many attempts to fly left clouds resting against mountains, dulling their sharpness into a soft subtle melody, while the wolf’s moon called for the chorus to mourn golden tresses shorn, soon frost will bleach all temporary white and as it drains away all colours, we reminisce on how we lay beneath the feet of summers passing, promising to return.