Awakening Giants.

A rhythmic, rainy day
Live Oak tree chiming;
of wind-blown,
antique cutlery,
spoons hung from forks
to a sun-porch –
by disintegrating
fishing string;
the fog clings
a smoldering fire’s
taunting smile;
a veil of mystery
everything for miles;
thunder rolls –
the molasses-slow
the Giants
from the Isles;
It’s a well-planned
last stand, tea party,
we priestesses sit,
card-tabled by
light mahogany –
a séance to the dead
and a curse for the living.

9 thoughts on “Awakening Giants.

  1. This is absolutely beautiful.

  2. I can see it. I like it.

  3. […] Awakening Giants.. […]