Billowing clouds,
In the midst of the sky,
Floating past,
As time goes by,
Beneath the sky,
The oak trees grow,
A resting place,
For the noisy crow,
I hear him now,
As he flies off,
To pastures new,
He's had enough.
Searching for his place to roost,
As night draws near,
Near the woods.
The bright blue sky has gone away.
Tomorrow brings another day.
Jayne Louise Davies
It certainly was a beautiful day! I enjoyed your lovely poem, so full of pleasing images.
Wow you captured the scenes and imagery in an awesome way, a delight to read, and the cousins of the crow fly here in trees. Kudos! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love the imagery of the oak tree and the crow especially but over all I think it's a gem Bravo/1