Far from the Line of Snows

Far from the line of snows, gliding angel craft, it shows grace with melody from familiar gaps and nearing homeward, mizzle stops, to part a path that leads a brook into damning spell of a look: such buries solitude to rest, but only if dying were a test, since the habit of walking across ice had stroked a quarter living on highs, when depths of care has called upon, from yellow-crowned gestures undone.

#Poetry