Poems from tannagal
A moth flits through the airUntil a grey paw darts outAnd pulls it down.Then it is gone.
My silver cloak, like molten steel,Draws swift the eyes of sons of men.If ground is sea then I am keel,And speed is well within my ken....
Only now, the sky so blueClearly shines his radiant hueTo contrast with his crystal hintOrange, red, and golden tint.Bold at first, the...
This fog, it so enchants my worldto make a man out of a tree.What sort of creature will it tryto make, then, out of me?
The muted greys of early morningShatter as the arms of pure white stormBreak through the clouds to illuminate the groundIn shards of...