River Song

Tonight our Pilgrim sleeps under velvet skies As we count the days since the caravans have departed winter’s rite He finds his beloved in a hundred murid images The clues hiding deep in these crossed roads of a poet’s second-hand notebook.

Morning Dew

The setting sun seemed to linger for one last glimpse over the horizon. In his solitude, looking out toward the hemisphere our Pilgrim could see the two brightest stars of Orion along the celestial equator, Rigel, and Betelgeuse. The expanse of open sky looked as though it contained every constellation in existence, lassoed and corralled […]