haiku’s on fog

O beautiful morn

shrouded and clouded in mist

fogged o’er secret Spring

Links to the Pond smlr

wake up now dear Spring

shed the blanket of morning

wipe the fog away

Secret Gatherings

Where, oh morn are you?

Where are your budding flowers?

Even birds whisper

Behind the Fence Line smlr

 

The End Of Language #1

The “end of language” is a new art project I’m working on.  This is the first image in that project.  I will be posting future images as individual posts.   For more information about this project please see the following page: https://onbeingbecoming.com/the-end-of-language/

end of language #1

A tree dreams of branches

A Tree Dreams Of Branches

 

A TREE DREAMS OF BRANCHES

 

One broken limb

splintered and

disconnected from its roots

frozen in time

a tree locked in its icy reverie

dreams of branches

becoming whole once more

veins growing outward

with the hope of leaves

only cracks in reality

Springs slow thaw