This is how I picture the wind;
roguish,
blowing across lush fields, into the dark catacombs
of bosom— eavesdropping
where thoughts soft-spoken are buried.
Surrounded by pandemonium
I observe its prowess closely; is this what it means to be vigilant?
If so, teach me.

 

 

 

Photo credits: Lady in Red by Emerico Imre Toth, Pinterest

Kim is our hostess today at dVerse and the word is “eavesdrop.”We may take a form or compound of it.
Come join us! ❤️

Posted for Quadrille #111 @dVerse Poets Pub

https://dversepoets.com/2020/09/07/quadrille-111-whats-that-rustling-in-the-eaves/