Splintered skies guide the breeze, as ivy whispers lunatic secrets, bare-fanged laughter erupts from the gnarled roots, curling spirals of bark tongue-tied with dreams.
Fallen leaves, confetti of the ancient, serenade the wandering sprites as they play, in the gloaming, shadows dance, unshackled by reason, eclipsed by madness.
Exhale the eve, a canvas of starlit delirium, beyond the treetops, a riddle bound to shriek: “What rustles within the void of absence?” Only echoes answer—an orchestra of the unwritten.
Howl at the Moon - Where silence sheds its skin, Leafy Retractions - Confessions of a sapling, bleached with the sun's eye.