A grey filled sky
Like frosted glass
Specks of birds adorn.
A murky cold
An empty wind
A dismal winter’s morn.
A tumbled gust
Re-curves a branch
Then flicks from back to forth.
It lifts a leaf
Which plummets slowly
And drifts forever north.
Behind this pane
I watch the day
Age towards its end.
Sky fades to red
A day that needed
A sun with which to lend. |