all disappearing shred-by-shred

all disappearing shred-by-shred

the silver mist, a breath of the moon,

last will of the night,

veiled dreams of the lake.        the pines,

boneless, wet, sleepy still,

float by the shores.               the frogs’ cry,

about the last night,  about  something insignificant,

call the local birds

to celebrate the sunrise in reverent symphony.

an ancient ritual- echoes of times.

the essence of the night, entrapped

into the droplets of dew,

roll down the green blades of grass

into the open mouth of the ground.

a morning disappearing

shred-by-shred

c: Nina K Orlovskaya 6/20/2012