The native town's sleeping under heavens.
The black cocoon had wrapped it till the dawn.
Thin coal threads are pierced with starry spangles
and with the Moon, enlightened a steep slope.
The dazzling slope is holding a small house,
exhaling calmly hardly visible smoke
through a big pipe. Its well renewed old garden
is a good shelter from the night hard frost.
The cozy house always looks on meadows.
It seems they quietly hypnotize the one,
wagging with grass and with red twigs of willows,
which have been scattered on the faded rug.
And even the close church can't break hypnosis,
ringing for matins by fake bells inside.
Blank windows look on the plain meadows always.
Just evenings lit the cottage windows up.
by Thea Ariss
12.11.2025
A small house
© Copyright: Тея Арис, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125111207211
Свидетельство о публикации №125111207211
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