A Spelling

Bardish playing

pipes calling

far down behind

the wind

twining---weaving mist

tendrils in wild

hair---blowing---flowing

off the sea

down craggy gray granite mountain

 

slinding---catching---slipping

between mosses and ivies

into rolling rivers

into rilling streams

into ancient warming ground

rising---twining--weaving mist

tendrils into green so thinck it melts

eyes, cuts

heartstrings

 

he calls

binding---demanding come

bidden I must follow

must dance to skirling pipes

dervish drums beating

beating new rhythms

mere feet cannot follow

 

he calls

 

I follow

Author's Note

I was taught, if you do not start with punctuation, do not continue with it, thus the lack of such throughout piece.