Opening the Iron Gate my feet trace a path round silent ponds, through black stands of blasted trees rumbling from the smoke of winter’s war flinging out naked branches tipped by the solstice sun. …
Source: Second Cease Fire
Opening the Iron Gate my feet trace a path round silent ponds, through black stands of blasted trees rumbling from the smoke of winter’s war flinging out naked branches tipped by the solstice sun. …
Source: Second Cease Fire