Celtic myst

ABurning tree on birds eye view
Perfect round, black soil, ambers twinkle.
Fruit forbidden,
Would Eden have been discovered

without it sins…

Deciduous leaves fall,
tap me on the shoulder to let me know.
I sink into the earth,
cold fingers touch the trunk.

I’m the Eagle who flies above dessert white.
Mountains gloomy shine from their top, showing
The path to the Ocean.

Riverbanks sweet and soft strawberry,
A long line sprouts a New.

I pause

Calm at ease, she listens
As the sun set on a ocean blue horizon.

Evening sun reflecting upon the movements in the water,
the Eagle glides gently knowing it’s root.

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