Season Poem by Tajma Hall
Season
Rating: ★4.0
Woodland instruments play
the day is gold
have not to despise
our creatures unfold
light drizzles beyond sunshine
its gift a burden lifted
which in is harmony
there is the wind
strides seldom waiting on matters
copper strips hiding
in the vast season grow
turning down the isle
footsteps in the grove
whistle pass as you go
Friday, September 25, 2009
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4/25/2024 1:55:41 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Great imagery & flow to this lovely poem. Well done. Ravensong