Vine-twined nights

.
original poetry
and photos
.
by @d-pend

I.

Which dwarfs us, also,
our majesty shows:
For to embering oak
a golden acorn grows.

II.

An ambrous fork where you, my love,
whisper true forgotten words
echoing in the soul in essence—
now below the surf submerged.

III.

The claw of autumn
casts aspersions
and evergreens collect them.

IV.

Through the vert and skyblue,
burdenless to stroll—
companions in the flesh
soft-intermesh along life's toll.