somnambulance.

what manner of stones strewn here?
where oaks grow up tall and willows bend near
when quiet is broken only by waves
of honeyed dew smells and half-dug graves
why lazy gold wavers in curling streams
'round lone bends in wide sunbeams
stretching vines of dappled forest shades
how rivers flow, flow fatedly
beneath the trees, towards the seas

posted by paradoxically correct @ 9:30 AM