An Autumn Grimoire. The Kingdom of Mists

Тея Арис
The autumn forest tales
flew high among thick stems
and fell on yellow pages.
They fell in Quine Haze book
and turn into black hooked
uneven inky lace.

Black antimony soaked,
developing in words
of magic sacred spells.
Small leaves had been revived
and whispered rustling rhymes
to Wind’s uneven wages.

Queen Haze collected tales
to make bright powder paints
for colouring green leaves.
No one could understand
the language of the spells
trees whispered in one’s ears.

No one could understand
the making of grey haze
and thread for spiders’ webs.
The old wise hoary Queen
forever kept and screened
the spells from shabby pages.

                by Thea Ariss               
                27.09.2024


© Copyright: Тея Арис, 2024
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