( via / via )

Snowy nights ❄️.

spiral faring forms
finishing here when
a cloud leaves its load
lingering coolth pools
where the branch heaps hunch

high 'wildering still

"One imagines the hinges of the trunk creaking as he shuts it for the last time, motes of dust swirling in the weak November light, his fingers pale against the dark red wood, their motion momentarily arrested, paused in brief uncertainty, and then drawing the lid down, closing it for good."

"Indisputably, belladonna (as the deadly nightshade is called) has become our muse, our prima donna and madonna, and we live in a poetical nightshade sabbath." --Jean Paul Richter via

The White Dog.