The forest, dark and dull,

Lay beneath the spell

Of a silent hell.

Devoid of gentle lull,

The sluggish river lay -

A somber stream of gray.

Above, a night sky spread,

Enclosed by muddy clouds

Like viscous, yellow shrouds.

Through this scene of dread

Began to appear

The mystic sphere.

Meandering river, dancing, bright,

Now with silver sparkles strewn;

Now the forest heard her tune.

Veiling all in silver light,

The moon revealed

What gloom had sealed.

Omnivorous lover of life with interests from poetry/literature and science to geopolitics, health and art. IFB. alecramzurc312@gmail.com

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