Monday, June 13, 2011

24 At the Edge



Bone-creak and moan, our fathers’ solemn song plays on
Groan of timber and broken brawn born of giants long-since gone.
They cry as one, a mournful chant, as a lone wind through mountain coils.

     excerpted from "At the Edge"  - 'The End of Tales'

2 comments:

  1. okay, well you know that i'm into water and all that, but this is beyond beautiful. great colors, depth, movement., mystery. YAY!

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  2. Glad you enjoyed it - and thanks for the comment!

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