POPO 2021 Day 27

Since she was a young chick she’s preferred plain to print.

dVerse — Poetics — Reaper’s Prophesy

Sand, once forest, graveyards for ghosts of trees, soft whistles in breeze soon rumble with trucks laying foundations, proclamations of soulless dominion over ten thousand things; foul matricide. Sand, once forest, crawls with mud and afeared who claw for last arks for floods consume waste. Jack o’lantern face grins grimly when they gurgle, flounder, sink…

dVerse — Haibun Monday — Samhain’s Repast

How the cold creeps as the fire dies at length,–from, “Storm Fear” by Robert Frost The fire roared as we raised our glasses and toasted to delicious food and good company at this, our first Samhain gathering in two years. As all had been vaccinated and the room was of fair size, no masks were…