24 Friday May 2013
Posted in General comments, Images, Poetry, Seasons, sunrise
The cold morning breeze moves tendrils of fog around the pond.
The Red-winged Black birds call to the sun.
Yesterday’s heat is swept from the land,
Gray clouds hover
Threatening rain,
We move through the mist
Pulling coats close, wanting to call back the
words that doomed our fun.
The once sun gold shrubs are wrapped in dew tipped greenery. White frosted cherries, fade to apple green and disappear …
The call came in shortly after lunch. “We have a turtle in the pond wrapped in fishing line. – Your …
golden willows fade to apple green corn stubble fields shave – display riches in the earth low gray clouds whisper …
The sun rises. The radio clicks on – too loudly for the early morning. The coffee maker beeps and goes …
