Night storm

The flowing mist like cloth rolls in waves over the bold outlines of the hardened grass
Shinning and reflecting back the black light cast on them
The silence blows in cool and crisp
Sweeping over the surface of the land
Dark warriors and gentle maidens soften in the moving forms that litter the sky
Images come and go changing with the mind
A sound vibrates in the distance
As a pure calm light rapes the air
And with jagged teeth bites into the ground
With every falling silver teardrop colour splashes up
Rolls into an organised pincushion
Uniform and regular
I feel the soothing rhythm and cold edge as water drums down
Mind swings back to feel the freshness and reveal the day
I hardly notice that the drumming has stopped
The water is calm
The colours of cloth once again flow into each other, on the horizon
With a thousand green fingers
Soft and bristled stroking the smooth lines of warmth
As once again the rays of an orange sun breathe life into the elements
To repeat a cycle that retains it originality