트리메러스

The autumnal shift and Hare-eared crowns imagery pulled me right into that eerie post-Harvest silence, and the prose poem format feels like a field itself—sparse, dusted, and waiting. I've reread it three times now, and each pass reveals a new root buried in the lines.

The small square window motif really stuck with me—it’s such a precise, claustrophobic detail that sets the whole eerie tone before the page is even turned. I’ve read it three times now and the Hare-eared crowns imagery still gives me chills every single time. This is the kind of botanical horror th

The autumnal dread in this one creeps up on you — the hare-eared crowns and the hoar frost feel so tangible I could almost hear the dust settling. It's a short read but it lingers, like the silence after the Harvest itself.