Absolutely Miles Away …too many clouds, too little time…

Evening Blues : 5

blue will ever be blue. following you, leaf to frond to trunk to root. Dunked in precious soil and a soul sheen, those minutes of halflight will never appear the same.

trace a circle with a finger around and about, turning to a figure of eight and swirling whorl, wisping whispered mists woven with lace web. Hung out in prospect of an insect catch, tentacle fingertips clutching into dirt-dotted bark.

[i’d not spend my evenings in the trees, catching notes on the breeze for no reason. only for this.]