Rustic curtains
bestir back and forth
Panting wind
blusters through the open cobwebbed casement I breathe deep the air sweet
Sylvan pine trees idyllic stir but do not budge
Cool gales bristle through the pines harmoniously in symphony and rhapsody
Composing resonance through its forested ceiling
Rain, soft,
falling from above
Makes its
journey from pillowed thunderheads aboveTrickling off the roof, puddles in soliloquy convey natures speak
Overhead nature
clashes distant in the atmosphere
God Almighty’s
footsteps reverberateThundering behind majestic granite peaks
From far away awakens me slightly
Traversing
between drowsy velveteen thoughts
Reality peeks in
and goes, eyelids open slight then closeHeed the fire crackling feigning its last breath
Puffing and heaving its last hint of heat
Shall I rise to
stoke these dying flames beckoning?
To feed its
hunger for my warmthBemoaning to stir myself, yet though, I shall let it slumber, like me
No comments:
Post a Comment