Finally, Summer has played an ending tune. A fine murmuring prayer. Syrupy sweet -were the dreams collapsing into rivers, there are salty streams from which I’ve swim.  Its waters are tingling cold.


Dressed in buttered -moons a lingering haze to remember life patterning’-tin, the cicadas are buzzing, the green forest is pressing the nightfall to join in… soon hope will return a faith upon the land.  A sound of refreshing… a heart full.. that we may know life again…  ~Krissy Mosley (image by


4 thoughts on “Chording

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