Can you make this wind so calm?
Eyes become lost amidst time,
Fall whithers deep beneath frozen soil
In an exhale from sweet Gaia youth.
Hands beneath a wool fleeced warmth
Trace aged and soggy wooden trusses
To ground all paths sturdy,
Placing soil-meet-water underneath
Obstructions aging gracefully,
With moss
Silhouetting a vista worn on the sleeve
At fogs deepest moment, neigh.
