as harsh toil drains existence
the loft of moontide invites
sweet assurance from eve’s flit
cradling my own space
Behold the grace of a river’s trail
Trail of a pilgrimage, unknown
Unknown to moontide swept by sand,
Sand whirling unto endless curves.
Contest Two -Four Lines Only
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.