SCRAGGLY , SLUMBER ING TREE , DI STORTED AND GNAWED, PALLOR OF FROZEN S I LVER , STANDING IN A DESERT OF WHI TE . I GR I P I TS L IGNEOUS ARM, F I RMLY WI TH RUGGED CLAWS , GOLDEN EYES BEHOLD A DESOLATE , SNOWY S IGHT . DROPS OF HAI L ENERVATE , DESCENDING OVER MY WINGS , INVI S IBLE ORNAMENTS , FROM MY CAREWORN BRANCH HUNG. THEY GLOW BLUE IN THE WINTER DUSK , ICICLE DR I PP INGS , EARS ARE L I STENING FOR A SWEET SONG, NOT YET SUNG. U N D E R QU A R A N T I N E
WE BIDE T IME UNT I L DAWN’ S CRACK OF CRUSTAL DAYL IGHT , FOR WHEN THE VE INS OF THE SUN MAY WARM US . TO POUR HOPE INTO THE COLD INDIGO HEART OF TWI L IGHT , I AM BUT A SNOWY OWL IN THE SKY , STAR OF THESE COSMOS , AND I DREAM TO FLY FREE . FOR THI S OBS IDIAN FOREST I S A HAUNTED CAVERN, PER I SHED AND GREY , HOME TO THE GHOSTS OF L IVING THINGS THAT ONCE WALTZED TOGETHER . BUR I ED THORNS AND FLOWER STEMS , INSENT I ENT , AND LONG DECAYED, A PEACEFUL S I LENCE NESTLES , RUFFL ING MY FEATHERS .
A N D R E A V . M E N DO Z A
Made with FlippingBook - professional solution for displaying marketing and sales documents online