Song of the Tired Tree

Out in the misty moonlight
The first snowflakes I see,
As they frolic among the leafless
Limbs of the apple-tree.

Faintly they seem to whisper,
As round the boughs they wing:
“We are the ghosts of the blossoms
That died in the early spring.”
- Ghosts, Richard Kendall Munkittrick

Grown-up bonebird again, after waaaaay too long.

Yes, that is a glowing, floating apple. Yes, there is a reason for it. The explanation is long and entirely too complicated.


Media
Painter IX