Fog

A bit of expired film from a foggy venture last week
where I discovered, surrounded by mist,
a young maple
that would seem lorn at a glimpse.

In her solace, a sovereignty,
and wearing only a veil of warm evening fog,

but beneath an alluringly lovely
freedom.

Giverny

Strolling through an endless late spring of french daydreams.

Renaître

forever is a long, long time.

Rite of Spring

,

A rite of spring is born,

 hair tossed in the wind, bright eyed, wandering

 humming a sweet beltane wind,

she sings,

"The earth is awake".