Emily Farris (12th July 1993-) is born in Fort Wayne, Indiana. She is a Theatre and Writing major with a minor in History in Anderson University. She has great comedic timing or so she’s told. Farris also adores riveting words and finds herself improvising on paper as she writes and claims that as her style of writing.
The moon reflected off the bright mirror of the rounded lake,
Frosted, painted trees hanging over the shore.
A silent raptor glides through the wisps of stars
Razor wings parting the light in silent gauze curtains.
The rotating woods stroll along the hills
That radiate from the lake like
The spokes on a wheel.
The wind whispers secret songs to the landscape,
Not ruffling even the driest of leaves.
Lamb’s ear quilts the dark expanse with threads of silver
Fading into the last shoots of green.
Towering trees with smooth skin force black trunks
Out of the rich earth, showering the world in all manner of
Tree things, the resonant colors splashing the terra firma
With gold and scarlet, fire and bronze.
A single blossom looses itself from its sturdy wood anchor
And flutters through the air, coasting on spirals of glacial breath
Before sliding onto the tight surface of the lake.
The world holds its breath, the blossom hovering
On the smooth, unrippled water before folding in
And slipping below
Into the gentle arms of the tarn to rest on the sandy floor
Beside the rusting locket.
Only then did the water swirl.
Setting
Emily Farris
About the Author