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War of kites and fireflies (Free verse) by fevriere
War of kites and fireflies buffeted on the breath that skates the hill enlivening grass blades, shaking trees. The prized sky is violet. The razed haze of high English summer refuses to move, like an incense-hued church. The almost-steel night thieves gold. The death of the day spells magic, scattering letters of coal-coloured songbirds wheeling and reeling above.

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xxx68.166.37.1851June 16, 2005 1:49 PM PDT
edpeterson68.79.1.869July 5, 2004 10:55 AM PDT
SupremeDreamer204.31.161.79July 4, 2004 9:07 AM PDT
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richa81.178.242.359July 4, 2004 5:34 AM PDT
Below lie old votes
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