Thursday, April 14, 2016

Poem for the Day



Spring

Golden grass dried to brown
Pine trees without cones
Lost to squirrels and
Fierce gales that
Tear branches and
Steal warmth from my soul

Now, blithely
Gold and purple traverse the fields
And tickle my toes

 
Carol Phillips

No comments:

Post a Comment

We welcome your respectful comments, but will not accept anonymous ones.