A Triad of Tanka X: The Brooding Moorland
The brooding moorland
Is windswept and desolate...
And gives nothing back.
In this vast, hushed upper-land...
A very dreadful beauty!
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Inside that wide void...
A resounding emptiness
Which fills the whole sky.
For never greater volume
With such solitude than here.
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Strange, shrill calling birds
Above the rippling heather;
Their ragged shadows
Buoyed up on combing waves
Pushed out with each surge of wind.
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Copyright © John Fleming | Year Posted 2025
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