A pretty, young girl strolls
Among the trees and leaves
Causing grasses to straighten
After she has passed on
To fog darkened waters
That chill the early fisher,
Making him sluggish and
Regretful of leaving
The second cup of coffee.
But the pretty girl pauses,
Parts the dawn with one
Tiny hand,
Unwinds a million miles of
Ancient light,
Then curls it around her
Fingers into another skein of
Flaxen shards.
A round, fuzzy ball she tosses,
Laughing,
Into the dark.
(Published in Poetry Nottingham, England)
Interesting the way you weave this stroll from picture to picture. You paint so beautifully.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love sunsets and sunsrises. This is a beautiful piece. You have captured this timeless natural phenomenon in a delicate embrace, making sure not to interrupt its ineffable beauty. Thanks for this