The Lingering Dust

Delicate blessings,
borne by gentle winds,
spiral, twist, and alight
‘midst rustling oak tresses,

as Autumn’s kiss sinks in.

Woodsmoke beckons,
as the wanderer skips
along forgotten paths,
unseen, and ‘ever-missed.

The lingering dust lifts…

a glittering, gentle suspension,
stirred by tiny feets’ patter,
and whipped by the lilting
call of little voices’ pips.

This telltale passing
of the tittering Fey,
marks their return
to the forest’s depths.

Bless me!” I say.

Careless feet will miss
the creek-stone step,
as the chillwater holds
my ankle icily
in its grips,
forcing each –

a curse,

a wail,

and a hiss.

My indignant surprise,
was loudly expressed
whilst mocking birds giggle

at my amused chagrin.

“Onward!” …I press.

In duality, I step.

The right foot of man
makes the rigid mark,
geometric and hard,
whilst a muddy,
splashing trail
is wetly cleft,

by the sloshing left.

©️ CG Tenpenny, 2022.

2 thoughts on “The Lingering Dust

  1. Was just thinking and wondering about you, and here you are: yay! This is a superbly-penned piece, Tenpenny. I love it! 😍 (And hope you are well.) 🤗❤️🧡🤎💛

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