Against the lemon sky,
an oak, naked in delicate black lace,
attended by bruised peach fluff.
A teal blue sky between.
The face of the scarred moon,
early risen above a gable roof, is bloated,
glowing like a battered pearl.
Black bats dart across its pallid disc
and purple clouds are neon-lit too soon.
Your word palette paints a rich and evocative picture of an autumn sky - beautiful imagery abounds in this short yet intensely vivid poem. jz xx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Enjoyable to read your rendition of this scene with your artistic talent. Years ago I stopped and realize that there was something special about trees in their nakedness. This line stands out for me: 'an oak, naked in delicate black lace'