Through The Pines

Rose-gold masts set sail

above a sea of shadows

pine trees drift the day;

under topaz skies

winds blow green pine needles

reflecting silver;

the wind through the pines

over the roar of the waves

drowns even the sea;

encrusted by gems

are all the sands of the earth –

gold-dust for the soul?

Beyond golden pines

eventide’s apricot flocs:

beach-combing moonbeams

written 15 – 29th .08.12; edited 06.09.12

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