from a burin rune
to the byre-brake borne to
ran a wood aloft
as a panoply
by a crick a moor a mill
& most featherly
in a languish swoon
rising as the rime surround
on a misty hill
wall-kin of the fog
the silent ground their raiment
deer-maids fly away
beyond the bowers
fore an anguish evermore
evermore they leap
ayaladn 
wurd.
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only-1, Kitty…& that’s always yes
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It’s beautiful. Especially out loud!>KB
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Thank you, KB…
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No. Thank you.>KB
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What is it with you lately–you use a word or spin an image that catches me and that’s it. It was dousing the other day and now it’s this “most featherly.” I am capable of more intelligent comments–I just get too caught up in one piece to comment on the whole, again. Thank you for the featherly.
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As long as its not dozing, (no lack there, punctuating),
silence knows its own, dear Susan…I rarely comment,
more often adore.
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Lovely way to put it. I just had to say something about this lovely, leaping, featherly piece.
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