patches of jaded green
on brown drying grass
reaching glory of sun
in quiet, clear morning
greeting my lovely eyes
naked trees endure wind
so cold for my warm skin
strips of paper thin bark
flailing to branches sway
dance with music they play
why black birds aren't here
nor flocks of geese at bay
sails are all taken down
am alone with low clouds
shading me away from sun
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem