stories

From the royal fortress meadow, they spring

Some linger in the dappled sunlight where the trees meet the wild grasses
Others move fluidly from the mist of the waterfall, cool and unformed
Some twirl and fall down panting among the dandelions and phlox
While others steal into the trees for unseen kisses and caresses
A few salute the gate, returning home to glory
Or enter quietly to browse esoteric scrolls

All of them looking for sustenance, for substance
Offspring of the King’s breath 

As it whisks along my tangled landscape