Floating on a covert mist: blood-runes microscopic elves carved from within tree-skins human-mind-thin. Shed etchings scatter to make room for future generations. The elder decomposes all wisdom with his corpse, save the nine slivers for those mortals who roam to find a wanderer’s truth. Non-finalist entry in this contest: https://allpoetry.com/contest/2830958-National-Poetry-Month-April-11th-noguest Photo by Marta Dzedyshko on…
One whisper to Huginn and I fly on his wings above ancestral fjords. One kiss on Muninn’s feathered skull and I see the glacial landscape my grandest farmor gazed upon beside the fire of her cabin as she cradled her son and beseeched the birds for her husband’s fate. My red, white, and blue: blood,…
National Poetry Writing Month
Keeping the world immersed in stanza.
About fantastical places and other stuff
"The silence of the night awakens my soul"
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Saralyn Caine Poetry 