Winter slips softly here,
spilling into
stippled lakes of slate.
Mists feathering
wren wings
that weep into
puddles of muddling leaves.
City sounds sleep
swaddled in sonorous
susurrus of
Rain, rain, slinging rain
The sifting silence of rosy dusk
suspends
startled by
staccato crow clamor
While dawn blooms softly wetly sweetly gray.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thanks for writing!
Jacqueline