A mist descending
Permeates the air and field.
I breathe in moisture.
Lawn is a puddle;
Thin streams run along the road;
Water rules the day.
Fog lifts from the hill--
A white billowing smokiness
Without any fire.
New lakes and rivers;
Small hanging drops of water;
Green buds on the branch.
The soggy forest:
A mass of mushy dead leaves
And pools of water.
The last piles of snow
Nearly gone from the road side--
Debris of winter.
A telephone pole
Turned upside down and backwards
In a mud puddle.
A luscious green swamp
Springing up across the road
Brings light to the field.
No comments:
Post a Comment