The Rim

Send us Fan MailThe RimCycling through the last dawn of August, the hidden shadows, the empty fields and ripples of silence, beneath the wings of migrating skies, the whispers of summer in the last stands of high standing corn, the smudges of light, across the bands of grey, above the forest edges, it’s quiet, so quiet and still, I imagine so I am alone, in a world of the emptiness of echoes,the passing of memories, in the trembling hands of trees, forgetful and forgotten, slipping beyond the rim of daylight, deeper into the morning deeper,into the stubble of fields, deeper, into the roots and earth, the closing dreams of another winter, the hibernation in the turning lamp of seasons.Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you can suggest some further topics or themes for my writing! And do give me [email protected]