Sunday Morning Storm Poem by Steven Federle

Sunday Morning Storm



High above, shifting in the storm
all leaves finally dropped and raked,

the tall tree feigns death,
as emerald grass glows
in winter’s rich rain.

But, late as usual,
the apple tree, like a queen,
spreads her royal leaves
into a golden robe
below.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Steven Federle

Steven Federle

Cincinnati Ohio
Close
Error Success