Bent oaks absorb the incessant drizzle
On dark thick shoulders,
Dripping excess on the ground below.
Shading deeper with wetness,
They bow closer to the ground
With the weight of great gray clouds
Like a pall upon their backs.
And when the wind moves through them -
A shiver of cold -
They shift a heavy burden in unison.
A beautiful wavering image, very well described. Regards Naseer
I can picture the trees swaying quite vividly...nice description.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Another vivid picture, Susan. Ron