(Poem #146 on new numbering scheme)
In cold wind, a few leaves swirled. Grey, inchoate gods unfurled their pale fingers, stale spirit, here at the end of the world.
– an englyn cyrch
(Poem #146 on new numbering scheme)
In cold wind, a few leaves swirled. Grey, inchoate gods unfurled their pale fingers, stale spirit, here at the end of the world.
– an englyn cyrch