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The Storytellers
The rain falls
on their tent,
A steady pitter-patter,
Then a torrential
downpour.
To pass the time,
They engage in the oldest
of artforms,
Expressions and hands
animated
in the light of the single lamp.
They tell of ages
long past,
Of heroes who walked
the Earth
alongside monsters
and giants.
Who slayed so-and-so
to build the mighty
mountains?
Who forded the river
that was stamped
by a thousand horses?
Well into the night,
They spin tale after tale,
Unable to sleep
out of sheer excitement.
@thewaywardpoet
#camping #nature #outdoors #idyll #pastoral #bucolic #poetry #spontaneousprose
© All Rights Reserved
on their tent,
A steady pitter-patter,
Then a torrential
downpour.
To pass the time,
They engage in the oldest
of artforms,
Expressions and hands
animated
in the light of the single lamp.
They tell of ages
long past,
Of heroes who walked
the Earth
alongside monsters
and giants.
Who slayed so-and-so
to build the mighty
mountains?
Who forded the river
that was stamped
by a thousand horses?
Well into the night,
They spin tale after tale,
Unable to sleep
out of sheer excitement.
@thewaywardpoet
#camping #nature #outdoors #idyll #pastoral #bucolic #poetry #spontaneousprose
© All Rights Reserved
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