Vernal equinox
Cold wind out of the west scrubs the air in furious gales,
In howling bursts, in mean screeches, roars down the mountain
And whipsaws trees before spreading out his icy hand over the Med.
In the predawn sky neither clouds nor haze stand a chance.
Shivering, I wait for the Sun to rise and tell me when…
And He rises, weary, besieged but determined,
In a pale yellow sky, casting sharp and blue shadows
While the wind erases all scents,
Knocks nests, seeds and pine cones to the ground,
Strips camellias of their petals in puddles of red tears
And bends the grass in supplication for mercy.
Just a little while longer He said.
unbuttoned or undone 
I need to sleep close to a window to just observe the sun rise. You describe it so wonderfully one wants to share the beautiful vision with you.
How you doing friend?
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Thank you. I think you rise early enough to catch the sunrise, don’t you?
The Navajos build their homes with a east facing door so that the sun is the first person they greet when they leave home.
I am well. Traveling a bit right now. Chasing spring.Smiles.
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I wake up early mainly on weekdays and my flat is not oriented to take advantage of the rising sun.
Enjoy your travels.
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Sighs. Talented you.
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Thank you. Hang on spring is coming. Smile.
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From an England layered in snow it seems a long way off
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Dawn 🙂
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Yes. So it is. 🙂
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“Just a little while longer He said.”
Winter’s grip still holds the Med.
.
This was nearly as good as a photograph, Em. I do believe I could paint this scene from your description.
Even as I see the wintersun
I now that the cold isn’t done
Not until the land has lost
The nightly chill of Old Man Frost.
.
Happy Sunday, Em.
Paul
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Awesome prose my dear…….
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Thanks Suz. Thank you for taking the time to stop by and leave a word.
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