The Stream
The scarlet wolves followed.
Their light came from the trees,
the roots constantly changing.
Flowing towards the pulse of their grounds,
Rifts of the stream come closer.
Gifts of fruit for the red stained flood,
Nature’s favored breath controls thee.
Grained in the sediment, the wind no longer blows
For the breath has reached its peak.
Sweet born children run through its mother,
While she guides them to their place,
While the scarlet wolves followed the stream
Copyright © Jordan Foster | Year Posted 2018
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