Captured fate

Dust streams off the road as dry tears.

Their hand is raised in farewell,

yet the heat waves trick the eyes into

believing they’re beckoning you closer.

Don’t take it, don’t step,

the wind cries, wrapping its arms around you

and pulling you away, away.

You bottle its colours, bright as glow worms,

and head off into the stars.


Dance of the Birch Trees

She crafted her words from wishes and silk,

calling the birch trees into step

and letting their faces spin the tale.


And spin they did,

and spin

and spin


until only silver thread was left,

ready to adorn the garlands

that were to be placed in the branches aloft,


ready to enchant any who passed under.


Arrow Play (draft)

A lover lost,

swept in by courtesy

and coin,

fine fabrics that glitter

as the deep divine.

A roguish grin

once jailed her heart

in petals,

a green-clad figure

both devious and kind.

A thief named,

hiding swift in shadow

and sight,

striving for his maid

to regain her Self.

A shattered laugh

embedded in his chest,

pointed wood

glued back into whole,

turgid with swollen hope.