Sunrise drips its gold on sleepy pepper trees,
Voices and door slams creep up over the wall
And roll on the grass.
The dog comes out to investigate pro forma
Then leaves me to my reverie.
A finch plays in the mimosa,
Bounces on slender twigs
Dreaming of butterfly effect
While the rising sun shows once more
That just a little heat is enough
To make a leaf tremble and sparkle,
To dry the darkness’ dewy tears,
For oleanders to abandon restraint
And spill their sweetness
In the still morning air.
Just a little heated light
And hidden colours flash dance,
Shadows retreat, blues recede
And the mountain reveals her scars.
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The sensuality this evokes is visceral yet delicate – wonderful
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Thank you for reading it that way Katalina, for understanding it and liking it.
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“A finch plays in the mimosa,
Bounces on slender twigs
Dreaming of butterfly effect”
Fear and trembling…Just a little
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Ah! Tu vois trop bien. 🙂
It’s just a poem.
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transparent eyelids 🙂
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That explains it. 😉
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😉
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Sounds like a beautiful morning, Emm.
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It was. Thank you Paul, glad you enjoyed it.
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So beautiful
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I am glad you enjoyed the morning light. Smiles
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It is evening now where I am, but I can already smell the nice morning coffee 🙂
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Thank you Nannus. Yes, the coffee is on… .
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Magnifique, comme toujours.
Peut-être ce n’est que la montagne qui montre ses cicatrices?
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Merci UnElephant. Tes encouragements n’ont pas de prix; ils me poussent a continuer, a perseverer dans l’effort d’expression meme si cela devoile un peu trop.
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