pink on gray granite
then fades to spotless blue over
brown and yellow shreds of late autumn
I focus my time lapse stare
on bare ranges, every peak
an undressed mannequin
waiting winter’s white dress
A honking flock sweeps past
the lone foreground spruce
in slow motion cinematic triumph
eludes capture
1 comment:
I am sitting at my table with the view out my window of woods, slowly slipping from vibrant greens into the golds and reds of early autumn as I read your atmospheric poem.
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