Winter Light


A quiet winter sun peeks out
over tiled roofs
from a wooly blanket of clouds
slightly lumpy
bunched and folded
against the mountain.

He casts soft,
barely there shadows,
and a hint of a glimmer
on left over raindrops
on the curve of a leaf.

He dreams of love
while the passion flower withers.

Passiflora vine

About emmylgant

Cloud watcher and dreamer sometimes wise, often foolish, but I am what I am.
This entry was posted in Life, Pandora's box, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

13 Responses to Winter Light

  1. Suz says:

    Lovely, lovely, lovely… I am so glad you put down the watercolor brush (for a time anyway) to pick up the pen. Your written imagery is so picturesque and sensual…


  2. PapaBear says:

    Ah, Emm, springtime is only 2 months away. 🙂


  3. arjaybe says:

    Mister Sun is not his usual boisterous self. What brought on this quiet mood?


  4. Ta description des nuages me fait sourire.
    Encore un poeme exquis.


  5. john zande says:

    Chin up, he’s on his way back!


  6. makagutu says:

    The winter sun must be a lovely sight to behold


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