Henry, Oh Henry… Frantically, I whipped my head from side to side. Where was the voice coming from? Completely submerged, I'd drifted down into the depths of the quarry, where this deep, resonating voice confronted me. It was omnipresent, vibrating the water all around me with its throbbing bass, my ears ringing as I listened, Day … Continue reading III : An ominous voice.
He, The North, Cuts the brush; His Eastern entourage Tailing that familiar rush Of said sweet Southbound trail • Soaring spirits flying high, yet, marred By echoes haunting this final evening quest Now you must run fast from an impending scar Sunset coming, leaves falling, all bowing to the West • Run, oh woodland wand’re, … Continue reading II : A thoughtful present.
It began with a poem, that looked like a note, left on my bed by a person unknown: Heed this warning, woodland wand’re While quick to Spring You’re soon to Fall. Leaves that change for Winter’s shadow, Will sing this song, My Summer’s son: Rise not and set On season’s close Henry the great Adventurer … Continue reading I : A foreboding note.