Wispy tendrils of mist
Hanging in the dawn
Ethereal swirls
Fingers of grey
Drifting away
Across the furrows
Of rich sienna soil
Early morning sun
Filtering through
Painting the trees
With ochre light
Ultramarine bright
Blue horizon
Falling to the sea
There are no recent comments (6 older comments) - Click here to add a comment to this poem or Show more comments or Read All User Comments (6)