Setting Suns

Clouds crawl like vines across the darkening
sky absorbing hues of a setting sun
retreating past a foreign horizon.
A lone woman stands beneath its growing
mass with head tilted back to see its forms.
The wind dances around her legs and soars
towards the majesty of the Lady
in the Moon. She envisions a brighter
world just beyond her senses and soft touch.
Ignoring temptation, she wanders home.

Wandering Woman

The bridge stood in splendour
Its moss free bricks
Clean and dutifully placed.

A lone woman wandered
through the forest sticks
In sturdy clothes, no lace.

Her light steps unheard
Her cloak left unseen
She approached the wooden gates.

Called to the armoured guard
Whose face was quite mean
Her fate now to wait.

She was shooed to the woods
To travel under her black hood
Taking her magic goods
Elsewhere.