June 12, 2020

• a single feather

  

   

  so far this season
  has been unseasonably cold
  with its sunlight
  sprinkled sparsely
  on a stone wall

  dawn oozes over the hills
  like chilled syrup
  with a few clouds
  stuck in its puddle

  the ancient pine begs the wind
  to give it back its youthful figure

  in late dusk, the meadow
  spreads a great shadow

  as twilight peers
  in at my window
  then shakes its head
  and walks away

  moonlight
  drops handfuls of stars
  in the tall grass

  thoughts settle on their perches.

  a single feather drifts down

  • 4:29 pm
  • 3 Comments