One early autumn morning, before the sun awoke,
before the moon had disappeared, or any robin spoke,
I opened up my window to feel the breezes play
and let a breath of beauty in before the hectic day.
I gazed across the river, where hills of palest green,
like candle-lighted altars, glowed soft in morning's sheen.
The crowds of hooded oak trees, a congregation there,
drew close their cloaks of shadow and bowed as if in prayer,
while gray upon the distance there lay a fragile mist
as wispy as a spider's web, as gentle as a kiss.
The colors of the morning, a palette softly spun,
would linger but a moment more before the singing sun.
|
| Writing Prompt |
Write a poem about this picture. Rhyming a must, any style, three stanzas minimum. Creative approaches welcome. |
Author Notes
Thank you Diannatilley for the picture that is being used as a substitute for the one that prompted the poem. :p I like this one better anyway.
I'd also like to thank the kind person who found this in the basement and brought it up into the light. That was extremely generous of you! This was one of my earliest posts when I first came to FanStory.
|
|
