Inception

Under the full moon, the creatures danced.
In shimmering light, eloquent laughing sprite,
their chimes and echoes filled the air.

Shadows wavered western hills.
Gleams of stardust sprinkled like snow,
mystic and asymmetrical on verdant summits.

Aurora flashed as vivid filament.
Magic visions flavored midnight mist,
gliding like love atop discontent.

Lithe willows wafted summer seas,
still enrapt by the meadowlark’s pure song.
That night, poetry was born.

12 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
May 26, 2013