What a beautiful sunrise this morning as the rain ended . . .
With the scuttering sounds of insects,
And then transforms, shifts shapes,
Becomes the quietest of creatures:
Crawling, translucent spiders,
Confused in a maze of reflections,
Their bodies like molten glass
And leaking their watery webs.
But stay, watch awhile with me. . .
The sky's first fingers of colors
Arrange the crumbling darkness
And move it beyond our reach:
A trembling tint that deepens
And opens, even as we watch;
The air a blanket of pink satin
That covers the stars, one by one.
Poetry by countryfog
Read 721 times
Written on 2010-12-04 at 15:12
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Dawn
Rain comes ticking on the windowWith the scuttering sounds of insects,
And then transforms, shifts shapes,
Becomes the quietest of creatures:
Crawling, translucent spiders,
Confused in a maze of reflections,
Their bodies like molten glass
And leaking their watery webs.
But stay, watch awhile with me. . .
The sky's first fingers of colors
Arrange the crumbling darkness
And move it beyond our reach:
A trembling tint that deepens
And opens, even as we watch;
The air a blanket of pink satin
That covers the stars, one by one.
Poetry by countryfog
Read 721 times
Written on 2010-12-04 at 15:12
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
|
|
Nils Teodor |
|
John Ashleigh |
