Passing Clouds.

 

Birds prefer a heavy dew to

 ice cold rigors of a sudden

snap it helps them brave

an arctic breath which saps

 

As if to celebrate this Celsius

shift a starling sits upon

a stark-branched tree

to serenade a dankish world

 

Late December mists and

tree-lined silhouettes every

passing mood of nature is a

poem waiting to be found

◄ A Township Like Alex

Dangerous Bend. ►

Comments

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winston plowes

Tue 28th Dec 2010 21:19

I also liked the imagery here. And as you suggest, hard not to write about this sort of thing at this time of year. Nice piece. Win

<Deleted User> (7212)

Tue 28th Dec 2010 16:38

A great poem & fantastic imagery/feeling to it. Well done :)

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Ray Miller

Tue 28th Dec 2010 12:00

A nice poem, you do internal rhyming well. I'm not so keen on some of the line breaks and rhythmically I thought you could do without withered or stark-branched.

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