the sun leaves it's signature across the hills
in the movement of the shadow clouds.
the loch shimmers like a van gogh.
tender are the hearts
that tremble in the light.
rain stain heart flame.
reminiscent of something
not unlike the ritual of the bonfire.
today. a cool, apricot skied morning.
one of last breaths.
yet the mask hides not her eyes of glass.
that see what, now?