Ersine

The world is beautiful in the eye of the storm-- 

it is most vibrant in the calm between sufferings.

Where a period of grief leaves a heavy fog

the briar is quenched of thirst and blackberries

begin to bare their weak springtime thistles.

The forest is greener when the fog lifts--

evaporating into warm sunbeams in the gold.

Author's Note

S.B.

Reviews

[Delmar Cooper]

Perfectly catches that cusp in nature; the place between wet and dry, hot and cold, where everything is right in the Goldilocks zone.

To echo Emma, Ersine? Inquiring mind are baffled.

[Anna]

It's the name of a meadow region in the woods where I live.

[Delmar Cooper]

Ahh, thank you.

[Anna]

No problem :)

[emmajoy]

Seems aftermath has its own beauty, is a masterpiece in its own right.. as should be. Each of your phrases creates a switch of thought from,.. to... and makes for welcome pauses within mayhem, Such an interesting piece of writing, controlled yet free of conformities.

The word, Ersine?