Stones and moss
Stepping stones a fragrancy of moss
stench of moulten earth
bees honey refuel
an existentialist dearth
we plough the fallow
come to the crunch
of ice depth sound
Stripped dust-moted dew
rain cascades bled brick-red
We smother and we capture
scars across this earth
Riplines racing burning breath.
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, August 18, 2020
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