Prose

Never Agains

Searing lines lace a valley’s rim.Mist forms and rolls across deep skies.Wind and hail rush the weathered treesand dips their bows aside. Motions swirl, pluck and playbringing to life, silence.Rays pierce through and breakand the tide of sheeting’s mist clearing momentstrace tomorrows gains. The waft and sprays of flowing streamsthe cascade of pine needle shadeallude …